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souliebird · 10 months ago

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[[and then I met you || ch. 17]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

Words: 4.3k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

“No.”

Minnie plants her little feet firmly on the sidewalk and pulls her hands out of your and Matt’s grips so she can make her point by crossing her arms over her chest. A pout starts forming on her face and you have the feeling this is as far as your daughter will be going.

Across the street looms Clinton Church and you can understand why your daughter does not want to go anywhere near it. The building is as imposing as it is grand with its traditional architecture half shadowed in the morning sun. There is light reflecting off the many windows, casting little glares that you are sure Minnie can interpret in multiple ways - including eyes looking down at her.

Try as you might, you can’t imagine what else your little one must be picking up from the building. Is there someone praying inside? Or chanting? What sort of terrifying noises is the building making? How many rats are scurrying around the grounds, hissing and eeking and becoming unseen monsters?

How many real monsters are there?

Right now, the only monster you know of is the one in your chest named Anxiety. It is roaring inside you and causing all sorts of ruckus.

You know Minnie can pick up on your upset, and it is probably influencing her, but no amount of breathing exercises or chamomile tea is going to relax you.

Meeting someone’s parents is always going to be nerve wracking under any circumstance - but meeting the mother of the man who fathered your child? Who already has a unique and slightly estranged relationship with her son?

Frankly, you’d rather give birth again.

To make matters worse for your over analyzing, Matt's mother is a nun.

You have never interacted with a nun before, and your mind has been nonstop screaming that you are going to make an absolute fool of yourself. You are convinced you are going to say something dumb - like Jesus is stupid or some other blasphemous thing.

You don't even know what counts as blasphemy, but you know your mouth will find a way to make you want to sink into the floor and disappear forever.

You are on the same page as Minnie and don't want to take another step toward the Church.

“No?” Matt questions, tilting his head down towards his daughter. He looks a bit baffled, like he can’t understand why she’s taken such a stance. You know he is nervous about the meeting as well, having told you such earlier, but you don’t think he realizes how much his nerves, on top of your own, are affecting Mouse and her fear of the new big building.

“No.” Your daughter repeats, giving a tiny stomp of one foot to emphasize her point.

“No, what, sweetheart?�� He kneels down to be on the same level as her, but you have a feeling that isn't going to help much. Minnie has made her decision and trying to sway a determined, upset toddler is a near impossible task.

“I don't wanna,” she tells him, her voice starting to get whiny. She turns away from him to press herself into your leg, her pout growing even bigger.

Matt knits his brows together, confusion clear, “You don't want to go to the park?”

Technically, you are supposed to meet Matt's mother in the Church park that is between the main building and the orphanage but as far as you are concerned, all of the grounds are Church. Apparently, your daughter feels the same.

“No. I don't wanna,” she declares, which quickly turns into the chant of, “I don't wanna, I don't wanna, I don't wanna!”

You can feel the tantrum coming and intervene, scooping Minnie up and hugging her to you. She instantly clings to you, burying her face against your neck with an additional almost screech of, “I don't wanna!”

You start to gently rock her from side to side and rub at her back to try and soothe her. You kiss her hair and promise, “We don’t have to go, baby. It is okay.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel like a grade A asshole.

Matt’s face crumbles into heartbreak and you totally deserve to walk into traffic. He had opened up to you about his mother - about how she had left him as a baby only to end up raising him after his father had been killed - but not telling him who she was. He told you how he only recently learned the truth - less than a year ago - and how hard it was for him.

But now he had you and Minnie and maybe, just maybe, you could all learn to be a family together.

Anxiety overdrive kicks in and a potential solution tumbles out of your mouth, “What if we go somewhere else instead? Somewhere we’ve been before?”

Matt lifts his head up at you, so you see yourself in his glasses, and for a second you think he's going to argue - insist you go to the Church playground - but then he tilts it towards where you don't want to go. You don't know what he is listening for, but after a moment, he stands again. He steps closer, a hand going to sit on your waist and trapping Minnie between the two of you. She stays nestled against you, little fist tight on your shirt, but you find yourself breathing a little easier at his touch.

“Would the office be okay? Foggy is out meeting clients and Karen is at the Bulletin today, it will just be us.” He offers quietly. Relief washes through you at the suggestion - you think the office would be a much easier meeting place.

But it is not your decision to make. You gently bounce Mouse to get her attention and ask, “Do you want to go to Daddy’s work?”

She doesn’t respond right away, but you feel her twist your shirt in her hands. You can tell she is thinking over her answer, so you wait, trying to focus on your daughter instead on how firm Matt’s hand is on your waist. It takes about twenty seconds, but Minnie finally nods into your shoulder.

“Okay, We’ll go to Daddy's work.”

To reward her for being so brave, you press a kiss to your daughter’s hair and Matt quickly mimics you. Minnie clings tighter to you at the affection and you think she is going to remain tense and upset until you are far away from the Church.

“Okay. Wait here, I'll go tell Sister Maggie about the change in plans,” Matt tells you and you wonder if it is really okay with him.

You know you and Minnie meeting her is important to Matt, but is the location important as well or is it just convenient? You are too wound up to ask and fearing you won't like the answer, you keep your mouth shut and focus on rocking Mouse.

Matt gives Minnie another kiss as he tightens his grip on you just slightly. It isn’t painful, but you get the impression he does not want to let go. You want to lean into the touch, your overactive mind telling you it might be nice if he never let you go, but before you can process those feelings, he is pulling away and crossing the street.

You step to the side, so you don’t impede foot traffic, and watch as he navigates past the cars and disappears around the side of the large building. Once he is out of sight, you look down to your daughter.

You want to ask her why she doesn’t want to go to the park at the Church, so you can better understand how she sees the world, but you also don’t want to put too much pressure on her. She’s already clearly upset, and you think trying to get her to answer your questions will just make things worse.

So, you focus on making things better for her.

“Would you like your headphones, Minnie?”

That gets her to lift her head up to look at you, squinting like she’s trying to determine if this is some sort of trap. Eventually she gives you one curt nod before hiding her face again.

You are a pro at being able to maneuver to get into your purse while carrying a toddler and soon enough you are handing over neon blue headphones. She needs no help in unfolding them and situating them over her ears, and once they are on, she snuggles herself back into your arms. You have no issues or complaints with the action - you simply begin to rock her again and hope this mood subsides once you are at Matt’s office.

You think about ways to get Minnie to interact with Matt’s mother as you wait for Matt to reappear. You think this might be the perfect time for parallel play - you’ve got a few coloring books stuffed in your purse, along with some small toys. You think it may be best to let her do her own thing while the adults talk, and that she comes over when she’s ready.

You hope that Sister Maggie understands that would be ideal - you know she helps to raise children, so she must understand that some kids are shyer than others. Pushing Minnie to interact when she’s fussy will only result in tears.

Possibly your own.

A few more minutes pass before Matt returns to the sidewalk followed by who you assume to be his mother. She's dressed in a gray and blue smock dress and matching habit, which is far less intimidating than the all black look you were expecting. She has an air of authority about her, holding herself tall as she walks, and you have the feeling she is a no-nonsense person.

You pray to a God you don’t really believe in that this meeting goes better than you fear it will.

You move to meet the pair as they cross the street to you and offer what you hope to be a warm smile. The smile, though not as overtly friendly as yours, is returned and Matt does the honor of introducing you. You adjust your hold on your daughter so you can shake the woman's hand.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Matthew has told me wonderful things about you,” Sister Maggie says before directing her attention to her granddaughter. “And who might this little one be?”

To no surprise to you, Minnie attempts to burrow into you more at the question, smushing her face hard into your neck. You rub her back, trying to let her know everything is okay.

“This is Minnie, she's a little shy right now.”

Sister Maggie gives a knowing nod, “New places can be intimidating.” She drops her voice just slightly, in what you guess is an attempt to be comforting, and addresses Minnie, “Did your father tell you this is where he grew up?”

He did - you and Matt explained the outing to your daughter, but you don’t know how much she understood. You do know no amount of sweet talk will change her mind, even if it is about her new favorite subject - her Daddy.

“I don't wanna go,” Mouse mumbles against you defiantly. You aren't sure if Sister Maggie can hear her, but you know Matt can. He steps forward, once again boxing in Minnie between the two of you and leans down to kiss the back of her head.

“We're not going there, princess. We're going to Daddy's office, remember? You've been there before,” he whispers into her hair. She shifts around in your arms a bit before giving another nod. You can feel her jutting out her bottom lip against your neck and part of you thinks you should call this all off and reschedule - but you aren’t going to do that to Matt.

Sister Maggie is watching your little family’s interaction, and you can’t bear to look in her direction to see what her reaction is, if she has one. Your anxiety has only prepared you for the worst.

“Perhaps we should start heading that way instead of saying where we are not going,” the nun advises after a moment and instinct and rational has you agreeing with her.

“I think that would be best.”

Matt pulls away from you and Minnie and you watch with downcast eyes as Sister Maggie offers her son her arm. He seems hesitant to take it, but he does, and your little group starts moving away from the Church and towards Nelson, Page, and Murdock.

The walk is quiet and you use the time to try and desperately calm your nerves, if only for the sake of your daughter.

You think about Matt and what kind of person he is - he is full of love and care. He got those traits somewhere, and whether you argue Nature or Nurture, Sister Maggie has certainly influenced that. Did she encourage his Goodness? She must have had some sort of positive influence if he is not only wanting her to be in his life, but his daughter’s life, as well.

You know some people believe family comes before anything, even if they treat you horribly, but you also know that if Sister Maggie was not a Good person, Matt would not allow her near Minnie.

He wouldn’t risk losing his relationship with his daughter.

That is something you have no doubts about.

As you arrive at Matt’s office building, Minnie lifts her head up off your shoulder. She wrinkles up her nose like she’s thinking hard before pointing to the plaque that state’s the firm’s name. You give her a warm smile, proud of her for recognizing it, but that only makes her squirrel away again.

This is the behavior you are used to seeing from your daughter in public - overly shy and not wanting to interact. You aren’t sure if the nerves and uncomfortableness from the church still linger, but you hope that once you are upstairs, she will start warming up a little. You won’t push her to do something she doesn’t want to do, but for Matt’s sake, you would like her to at least try talking to her grandmother.

Matt leads you all into the building and up the stairs. Sister Maggie runs a finger over the banister as you climb the stairs, giving a pleased hum, “Franklin did an amazing job cleaning this place up. Tell me that nose of yours helped in getting rid of all the mold.”

Matt huffs at the comment, “The property manager hired someone to come do that.”

“And did they get it all?”

Matt’s mouth presses into a thin line and you already know the answer.

“No, we spent a weekend getting the rest of it.”

You stop in front of the Nelson, Page, and Murdock office, and as Matt fishes out the key, you look up and down the hallway, mulling over what is implied.

“You cleaned the whole building?”

“Oh no, we couldn’t get permission from the other businesses to do that, but we did what we could to the public space and our offices. People feel comfortable here now.”

The door is opened and as you all file in, Matt suggests hanging out in the conference room. It has a nice window and plenty of space to sprawl out, so you have no objections.

You set Minnie down as Sister Maggie and Matt head into the other room. She instantly clings to your leg, practically hiding behind it. You pet her hair a few times before pulling her away just enough so you can kneel down to talk with her. As soon as you are at her level, she is trying to get into your arms again.

You let her hug onto you as you let her know what is going on, “Hey Mouse, do you remember earlier when I told you we were going to meet Daddy’s Mommy?” She nods but says nothing, so you continue on. “That is her. She wants to talk to me and Daddy and you and get to know us so she can be part of our family, too. But you don’t need to talk if you don’t want to, okay? I have your coloring books and you can color while we talk.”

That gets her to pull back just a hair and peek up at you with big brown eyes, “What are you gonna talk abouts?”

You smile at the question and gently run your hands over her back, “All sorts of things, but we’re going to end up talking about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. If you don’t want us to talk about you, you can tell me, okay? We’ll talk about something else.”

“But I don’ gotta talk?”

You nod, and let your bag fall off your shoulder. Minnie’s new zoo themed coloring book and crayons are easy to pull out and you offer them to your daughter. She lets go of you to greedily take her toys and hug them to her chest.

“You don’t need to talk,” you confirm. “Do you want to sit at the table, or do you want to sit on the floor?”

Minnie considers the question, and you take advantage of no longer being hugged onto to stand up. Your little one peeks towards the conference room, then back up to you, and declares, “I wanna sit on Daddy’s lap.”

You feel so much pride over your daughter making such a bold decision.

“Okay, let’s go ask Daddy if you can sit in his lap.” You know Matt would never deny her, but you do want to drill in making sure Minnie asks permission first.

She waits for you to lead the way before following you into the conference room. Matt and Sister Maggie are sitting opposite each other, and Matt has already scooted his chair out and is holding his hands out to help Minnie into his lap.

“Daddy!”

She hurries to him and gets scooped up and crushed into a hug. She hugs back best she can while holding her coloring book.

You take the chair beside Matt and finally allow yourself to look at the nun across from you. She’s watching Matt and Minnie with an almost unreadable expression, but there is something soft behind her eyes - like she’s been keeping it repressed for years.

But then she catches you looking, and the softness is gone, replaced by that All-Knowing Nun look you’ve seen in movies before.

“How old is she?” Sister Maggie asks, and you can’t help but flush at her directness.

“Almost four, her birthday is on the 28th,” you reply, forcing yourself to not completely avert your gaze and hideaway.

She raises her brows before turning her sharp gaze to Matt, accusing him with, “You did not mention her birthday was coming up.”

He has the decency to look a little bit ashamed, “There were a few other things to cover, first.”

The older woman shakes her head, “Priorities, Matthew. I may be new to being a grandmother, but you know well I have raised plenty of children and we have never skimped on birthdays. We may not always have the money to spoil someone, but we do well to make sure they know they are loved.” She looks back to you, “Do you have plans for the day?”

“Oh, um, the zoo. We’re going to go to the zoo,” you tell her.

Beside you, Minnie has slipped down into Matt’s lap, so she is sitting. She has started to flip through her coloring book, examining each picture before making her decision about what to color. At the mention of the zoo, she quietly mimics you, “Going to the zoo.”

Matt breaks into a smile at the words, looking proud as can be that Minnie spoke around his mother. He wraps his arms around her middle and you have the feeling he wants to crush her to his chest again but is resisting.

Sister Maggie seems to know Minnie isn’t speaking to her, but just in general, and keeps the conversation to you, “That sounds like a lovely birthday. Zoo trips are always a delight with the kids.” She tilts her head slightly to the left before continuing on, “Matthew said you do not have a support network.”

“That isn’t what I said!” Matt quickly says, before turning his head towards you, “That isn’t what I said.”

Sister Maggie scoffs, “It is what you meant, and it is not a bad thing. You more than anyone know what it means to have a support network. Now,” she says your name gently and offers you a somewhat kind smile, “You are welcome to come to the Church and use any of the services we offer, and you may come by anytime you need, day or night. We will always have our doors open for you.”

You stare across the table as you process the words she has said. Shame and embarrassment course through you at the idea of Matt talking about you. You know you’ve never really had anyone to turn to, but the thought of others discussing such matters makes you want to crawl into a hole and cry. Yet, on the other hand, the mere offer of being welcomed at the Church has you spiraling in all sorts of good and overwhelming ways.

But of course, instead of being thankful, the words that tumble out of your mouth are, “I’m not religious.”

“That changes nothing,” she says simply and somehow, sits up straighter, “I have been given a second chance to know my son and through this a blessing of a granddaughter. I will not run from these responsibilities again and -”

“Daddy,” Minnie suddenly says, cutting Sister Maggie off while pouring all her crayons out on the table, “Pick a color!”

Matt’s cheeks turn pink at the interruption, and you try to not slide down in your seat. You know you can’t expect your daughter to sit there quietly, even if she’s being a little fussy, especially if Matt is around. She’s a toddler.

Matt clears his throat and asks, “What colors are there, sweetheart?”

“There’s green, and blue, and purple, and red, and orange, and yellow,” she lists off, holding up each crayon as she does.

“Let’s go with red.”

“Okay!” Minnie picks up the chosen crayon and begins to carefully start coloring in a gorilla.

Since she spoke up on her own, you try to engage with your daughter to bring her out of her shell, “Can you tell Daddy what animal you’re coloring?”

You expect her to answer happily - after all she loves explaining things to Matt and she’s been learning all her zoo animals.

So of course, she does not do that. She whips her head around to look at you, and with the sternest little voice you have ever heard, barks out, “I don’t gotta talk!”

Your first instinct is to laugh at the outburst, but you bite down on your lip to control yourself. The urge passes quickly, and you decide you should praise your daughter for setting her boundaries, “That is right, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’m sorry.”

She narrows her eyes at you for a moment, clearly judging you, before turning back to her artwork.

Only then do you allow yourself a chuckle.

To your surprise, Sister Maggie laughs as well. “Well, she is certainly a Murdock.”

That gets your attention and you and Matt both let out a curious, “Oh?”

“That little glare was all Murdock. I have seen it so many times from Matthew, who got it from his father,” she says and there is almost a fondness in her voice. “I expect the hands on the hips pose is genetic as well.”

Your eyes go wide at that. Matt’s father has never been brought up in depth before - you read the news article about his death in an online archive, and he was almost brushed over when Matt told you about his mother. You assumed, like your own parents, it was a sensitive topic.

“I..didn’t know that,” Matt starts slowly, and you can practically feel the emotion bubbling inside him. Without considering it, you reach across the small gap between your chairs and take his hand, squeezing it. He instantly squeezes back. “I don’t remember him ever doing that.”

“I suspect he tried to not let his frustrations show around you, but it is something I remember clear as day - Jack with his hands on his hips, glaring at the refrigerator because it dared to lose power during a blackout,” Sister Maggie tell him, before she motions to her eyes, “They may not be the same color, but that look is the identical.”

The room goes quiet, save the noise of Minnie scribbling. You keep your hand around Matt’s, trying to communicate you are there for him in his love language. He starts to roll his bottom lip between his teeth, and you wait for him to react before you do.

“You…,” Matt starts after a few more moments, voice almost warbling, “don’t talk about him. You don’t talk about him like that - what he was like.”

“Yes, well, I’ve never had reason to,” Sister Maggie says. She places her hands on the table in front of her, clasping them together, and she looks like she is about to give an interview. “But that has changed, clearly.” She looks from Matt to you, “Matthew said you were looking for family history. I do not have much from Jack’s side, but I can tell you what I do know, and I keep my own meticulous records. I believe reviewing these things, medical and non-medical, together, will…help us heal.”

You look to for his reaction. His mouth is parted, and he looks like he is going through his own emotional rollercoaster. You know how important family is to him and how dear this information must be to him, so you make a decision.

You lace your fingers with his and smile at Sister Maggie and ask, “How did you meet Jack?”

“Ah, yes, now that is a colorful story…”

a/n: maggie is v hard to write

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader

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w1shfullthink1ng · 1 month ago

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𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔…𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐈 𝐃𝐎

paige bueckers x cheer!fem!reader

DESCRIPTION/ at the wnba draft you & paige show up together finally debuting y’all relationship

WARNINGS/ none (use of y/n AHHH ik ik pls 😔🔫 i swear i only use it like once!! don’t shoot the messenger girl didn’t you write this? shhh )

YOU WHERE IN THE HOTEL BATHROOM GETTING READY….safe to say you where scared no terrified for tonight. You put on your best face but you where drowning in your own mind “what if this goes wrong” “the medias ruthless” “what if-“ and that’s when paige’s voice brought you out of your head and back to reality

“you almost ready baby?” you shoot her a soft smile trying the mask your anxiousness “yeah..” you try your best to sound put together but after a year of being together and being friends for 3 she knows you like the back of her hand. “Hey..” she approached you gently her voice soft and comforting “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours hm?” she cups your face and moves a stand of hair out of your face tucking it behind your ear

you sigh softy “just nervous about tonight” you admit “if your having second thoughts we don’t have to-“ “no no I’m not having second thoughts well..maybe but I want this I do but you know with the media knowing and how they are it’s just nerve wracking and I don’t wanna ruin anything with you I know you have your NIL contract and stuff-“

she has a look of slight disbelief on her face “woah woah woah. you don’t wanna “ruin anything with me” baby you’re the best thing that ever happened to me you could never “ruin” anything in my life ever. so get that thought out of your head and as for the media screw ‘em people are always gonna have something to say. Plus if you don’t got haters then you ain’t poppin.” she says with a soft smirk. “You got me, I got you we’re good alright?” you nod her words of reassurance easing all your worries “Now come on pretty girl we have a draft to get to, and I need my gorgeous girl with me” she smiles placing her hands on your hips “okay okay let’s go” you laugh softly

You guys arrive to the draft squeezing your hand “Come on ma, you got this keep your head up you look beautiful baby, i’ll be with you the whole time okay?” she kisses your forehead softly her words gentle and sweet easing all of your worries “here we go” you sigh plastering a soft smile on your face as you take paige’s hand and head inside

The walk to the building was filled with cameras & people. The camera snaps few photos of you & paige an interviewer comes up to you guys and asks a few questions to paige like “what are you wearing tonight?” “Here to support Nika Mühl?” “How are you feeling about possibly getting drafted next year?” the suddenly the attention was pulled to you “Paige we see you brought a new face as your plus one tonight care to introduce us?” the interviewer asks with a smile “This is y/n, she’s my beautiful girlfriend”

You smiled softly and wave. You weren’t used to this many cameras sure there was a lot of people & cameras at uconn games but nothing like this, and definitely not this up close and personal. Paige had her arm wrapped around your waist and squeezed your hip a silent acknowledgment that she was there for you. The reporter smiled at you and paige “Girlfriend? wow what a surprise, y/n you look beautiful how are you feeling tonight.” “Definitely a little nervous but I have paige with me so I know i’ll be alright and i’m so proud of Nika just came to show my support for her as well.” the interviewer smiled “Y’all are just adorable if you don’t mind me asking how did you two meet?” paige had that stupid smirk you loved on her face. She loved telling the story.

“Well this pretty thing here is Uconn’s sweetheart she’s a cheerleader and she was cheering with all the other cheerleaders at one of our basketball games and I made a shot but after it went in it somehow bounced over and hit her head-“ you shake your head in embarrassment and giggle “Gosh paige don’t-“ she just laughs and shush’s you “Shh baby let me finish. ahem. anyways as I was saying it hit her head so I run up to her and apologize but I look at her and it hit me when I looked in her eyes I was like woah this is genuinely the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen so yeah I found her after the game got her number.” she winks.

The interviewer laughs finding the story so cute but I bud in “Paige thinks she has so much rizz yeah she may have got my number that day but it took her a WHOLE YEAR for her to ask me out” paige rolls her eyes playfully “Aye chill good things take time” the interviewer smiled and was amused by you and paige “Y’all are just the cutest, thank you both so much for your time it was so nice to meet you y/n thank you paige for sharing her.” paige smiles and reply’s “Of course but don’t y’all get to comfortable she’s mine.”

After all the draft night the media fell in love with you just as much as paige did loving your hospitality and transparency. Sure they’re was a few homophobic assholes but there was more positive feedback and so much support from everyone. You could say that everyone adored you…especially paige.

A/N still haven’t gotten over paige’s draft fit it was absolute perfection she’s so beautiful. also I apologize for being so inactive with finals & then the holidays your girl has been BUSYYY (I wake up everyday & there’s always smth to do i’m sick of it😾) but thank you for the love & support on my last blurb it’s so appreciated also TYSM for 30 followers ily all from the bottom of my heart. My inbox is open for yap sessions, unlicensed therapy sessions (i will always listen to y’all but samantha jones once said “we’re as fucked up as you are it’s like the blind leading the blind”) & requests are open !!

thanks for reading, love you always

wish signing off 🪽

#Spotify #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies

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snoopychris · 24 days ago

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hardest part

warnings: angst but its not too bad yet

college admissions were so nerve wracking. it sucked. the waiting and the fear of not getting in consumed you. when you took the middle school field trip to New York, you and nick were hooked. in the 4 hour bus ride back to Boston, your entire life was planned out. high school then NYU with nick. you’d live in the dorms for a year, then when you were able you’d move into an apartment together until you both graduated. you’d fall in love, tell each other about dates, share everything possible. you’d do everything together.

today was just the first day of that

nicks room was always so much more quiet than the other rooms in the house. it was nice. comforting. familiar. that’s where you sat now. both you and nick were refreshing the NYU admissions like crazy. there was a mutual squeal when there was finally an update. as if it were new years, there was a countdown. 3…2…1…

two white screens with big purple letters. ACCEPTED. your two screams became one as you hugged each other and jumped up and down. it looked like two little kids celebrating for the first time ever.

crazy enough, you were the first to run downstairs. “MARYLOU MARYLOU!!! I GOT IN I GOT IN I GOT IN.” you cheered, tears forming in your eyes as your second mother pulled you in for a hug. you had grown closer with her as of late, but she had always supported everything you did. nick was next to celebrate with his mother, as you switched places to celebrate with jimmy.

“i always knew you’d do it.” jimmy whispers to you, hugging you tightly. you smile at the simple action, giggling at your achievements. matt was at work for another while so he wouldn’t be able to celebrate, at least not right away. chris, however, was home. he ran down the stairs after hearing all of the screaming going on. you locked eyes with him before nick did, and with that look all was well again.

he pulled you in for the tightest embrace you’ve ever experienced and just smiled. “‘m so damn proud of you, sweetie. i always knew y’could do it. you’re gonna do such big things.” chris whispers, moving away from you to pat his brother on the back. though chris would never admit it, tears formed in his eyes. “and you! you’re gonna be the best damn photographer this world has ever known.” you giggle at his words, pulling nick in for another hug.

“oh my god. sweetie we’re actually going to college together… and you know it’s perfect cause now the hard parts over. and you’re only what? 4 hours from boston? you’ll be able to come home to matt all the time! i mean it works out.” nick whispers, making you reconsider everything.

you hadn’t taken that into account. as much as you’d hate to admit it, you never even thought about matt when reading over the acceptance letter. “yeah… yeah we can… come back a few weekends a month! and… and i’ll take my car.” you whisper, hands settling on the counter. half of you is filled with excitement while the other hand is filled with regret. how were you meant to leave the boy you had been attached to the hip to for a month now? the late night conversations, the kisses, all of the plans, were they supposed to be thrown away?

the celebration died down decently fast. everything was calm. your previous spot in the kitchen was now on the couch. your feet were on chris’ lap the way everything used to be. at some point or another nate showed up. then sadie showed up. then claire showed up. it was all of your friends right there with you celebrating your accomplishments. a party had been planned for that saturday, the first party in two or so weeks. you were okay. like nick had said, the hardest part was over.

matt arrives about a half hour later. he still had his black GameStop polo on. if you could, you’d tackle him to the floor then and there. he just looked that good. his face turns white when he sees all the people there. even if he had a few more friends now, he was still the same socially awkward kid who ate lunch in the science room and had a pokémon backpack. he twiddles his thumbs before pointing towards sadie, claire, and even nate. “i need to three out. um… are mom and dad here?” he whispers, looking around as your friends leave the room.

chris pushes your feet off his lap and nods, calling out for his parents. he notices the way his brothers face is full of fear. the same way you do. part of you wants to stand up and hug him, just to ease the nerves, but you don’t think now’s the time. it’s not until marylou and jimmy are in the room that he finally speaks. his voice is shaky and he’s visibly nervous. “i um… i got a full ride to Stanford. and im…. i’m gonna take it. i’ve been saving money. i can buy a car there… im gonna be farther than expected i know but i just… really need this after harvard.”

oh. stanford. 3000 miles away from NYU. matt doesn’t seem to notice the way your face turns as white as his had, but nick and chris do. you push it all away and stand up, instantly taking your boyfriend into a tight hug. “i’m so proud of you.” is all that you can muster out. it’s genuine. it’s also so full of pain. something matt also doesn’t seem to recognize. you choke back tears as you kiss his cheek, turning to avoid his gaze. nick and chris catch it. chris wants to beat matt’s ass. nick wants to pull you into a hug. they both know they can’t. not right now. “i’m gonna… go to the bathroom.” you whisper, heading through the house to the bathroom.

nate, sadie, and claire are chatting it up in the kitchen, and not a single them misses the tears in the eyes. nate’s the only one to act on anything. he doesn’t ask any questions, he just knows that something’s not right. you’re not okay. without thinking, he pulls you into a hug similar to the one chris had pulled you into earlier.

at that moment everything snaps. the hardest part was not over.

a/n: you guys should’ve picked the p!links. kiss kiss! -gen.

tags: @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @chrisscoraline @m4ttg1rl @princessesgarden @ikyoudreamofme @allylovescody @ayesha-eroticaa @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @user1smvtysturniolo @chrislova

#⋆˙⟡snoopychris #⋆˙⟡nerd!matt #⋆˙⟡matt!#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo au #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo series #matthew sturniolo fluff #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo smut #⋆˙⟡snoopychris writes

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hctsummernights · 1 month ago

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teaching bf!chris to drive. . .♡

"shit! chris, watch the cone!" you said anxiously, clinging to the handle above the passenger door.

chris was currently in the driver's seat, slowly making circles around the empty elementary school parking lot. your boyfriend had taken it upon himself to finally get his license, but you had underestimated just how nerve wracking it would be to have him in control of the wheel.

your boyfriend pulled into a parking slot, setting the car into park and burying his head in his heads. "i can't do this," he groaned. "i'll just keep getting matt to drive."

"you can do it," you assured, rubbing your hand across his knee gently. "you just have to pay attention."

"i'm trying, but i keep hitting the curb or swerving. i don't even want to drive."

you could see the denial in chris' face, knowing he was getting more frustrated with himself, rather than with the act of actually driving. "i have an idea." you smirked.

chris finally looked up at you. "anything."

"we'll do one more lap and one more parking practice. for everything you get right, i'll give you a kiss."

that immediately perked him. "you're serious?"

"i'm serious," you smiled. "i know you can do it, baby. i believe in you."

"fine. one more try...but i get a kiss anyway, right?"

you nodded eagerly, quieting down so that chris could focus. you began to keep a running tally in your head as he successfully pulled out of the space and began to circle the parking lot. you noted how he kept his eyes completely on the road in front of him, sucessfully staying within the lines, using his signal, and avoiding the cones this time.

"alright," you smiled. "back in and then you're done."

chris took a deep breath, setting the car in reverse and slowly backing into the space with the help of his mirrors. it took him a few tries, but nonetheless, he ended up perfectly backing into the parking space.

"you did it!" you cheered as he turned the car off.

"yeah, yeah," chris grumbled, his plump, pink lips jutting out in a pout. "how many kisses do i get?"

"well, you exited the parking space properly, stayed in the lines, used your turn signal, avoided the cones, and backed into a parking spot so...that's five kisses." you grinned.

"i think i deserve more than that." he hummed.

"y'know, the benefit of having your own car and your own license is having the backseat."

tags ♡: @emely9274 @tyummyz @55sturn @pr3ttyf4wn @quinnysnursery @nicksbestie @watercolorskyy

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x y/n #christoper sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets

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lefteagleblizzard · 1 month ago

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𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔢 Until Dawn males x male reader

Summary: Four standalone scenarios featuring each of the men from Until Dawn showing their protective side when you find yourself in danger. Each scenario exists in its own self-contained world, unconnected to the others.

Tags: He/Him pronouns used for the reader. Fluff and angst. Mike Munroe x male reader; Matt Taylor x male reader; Josh Washington x male reader; Chris Hartley x male reader. Set during the events of the game between chapter 5 and 6. All of these are separated and not connected. Established relationships. Kidnapping in Josh's scenario. Matt and Emily broke-up before the events of the game. Mike and Jess are not together in this.

This is a continuation of 𝒫𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔯𝔢𝔧𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡 but you can also read this as a standalone without problems. There are 4 totems in each scenario. Just like how it happens in game, the characters don’t have reactions to the totems. The visions are something that could happen in an unknown future and something that I maybe could do as another fic, let me know <3.

Words counts: 9000 words (around 2000 for each character)

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

ℳ𝒾𝓀ℯ ℳ𝓊𝓃𝓇ℴℯ

The sanatorium was deathly silent, save for the faint whistle of the wind sneaking through the cracks in the old, decrepit building. You huddled against the cold, your arms tightly wrapped around your torso as you tried, and failed, to stave off the biting chill that seemed to seep into your very bones. The room you were trapped in was small, suffocating even, with bars that reeked of rust and neglect enclosing you. The scent of mildew and decay filled the air, thick and oppressive.

This stranger brought you here with no explanation other than pointing the flamethrower he had at you and, when he shoved you inside this godforsaken room, he muttered only one thing.

"Wait here for dawn. Don't move."

And then he was gone, the gray and white wolf slipping through the shadows after him. No explanation. No reason. Just the sound of his boots echoing down the massive, empty hall until you were alone.

Completely alone.

Your eyes scanned the room for the hundredth time, looking for anything that could help. The cracked wall in the ceiling caught your attention again, but it was far too high to reach. The room was barren, offering no tools or furniture to elevate yourself.

Steeling yourself, you backed up a few steps as you prepared for what you were about to do. The cold had made your muscles stiff and every movement felt labored, but you ignored the discomfort. With a deep breath, you lunged forward, raising your foot and slamming it into the door with all the strength you could muster.

Pain shot up your leg, sharp and immediate, but you grit your teeth and pushed through it, slamming your foot against the door again. And again. And again.

You clenched your teeth, the desperation growing with every strike as the door barely budged, the rusty metal mocking your efforts as it groaned but held firm.

The pain in your foot was unbearable now, a throbbing ache that made it hard to stand. You stumbled back, gasping for breath as you pressed your back against the wall and slid to the ground.

"Fuck," you muttered, your head falling into your hands. The frustration and helplessness threatened to overwhelm you, a heavy weight settling in your chest. You felt like screaming, like punching the walls until your knuckles bled, but what good would it do?

Your breath came out in shaky puffs, visible in the icy air as you tried to calm yourself. You hugged your knees to your chest, trying to conserve what little warmth you had left, but it felt futile.

You closed your eyes, resting your head against the wall as a shiver wracked your body.

Then, suddenly, the silence shattered.

A door somewhere in the hall creaked loudly before slamming open. Your head snapping up just in time to see a familiar figure illuminated faintly by the flickering glow of a lighter.

"Mike…" you breathed, your voice a soft whisper of disbelief.

It was him, no doubt about it. Even through the haze of dim light and your own tired mind. He was wearing the same white tank top he had been wearing earlier when the two of you had been curled up by the fire inside that small chalet, his warmth pressed against you. The fabric was dirty now, smeared with streaks of grime and small tears.

His arms were streaked with faint cuts, some fresh and red, others just beginning to clot. His face looked just as battered with dirt smeared across his jaw and forehead, tiny scratches marking his skin like a map.

You pushed yourself off the floor quickly, stumbling slightly as you moved toward the bars, your hands gripping the cold iron as you pressed yourself against them. The rusted smell overwhelmed you, but it didn't matter.

"Mike!" you called out louder now, your voice breaking with a mix of relief and desperation. "Mike, I'm here!"

His head snapped toward the sound of your voice, his lighter flickering wildly in the motion before he stuffed it into his pocket. His eyes widened when they landed on you, his whole body seeming to tense for a moment before he ran and crashed against the bars, pressing himself as close to you as they would allow, his body warm and solid as he hugged you tightly through the narrow gaps.

Both of his arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you as close as he could. He buried his face against the curve of your neck, his breaths ragged and warm against your skin as his grip tightened.

"God, you're okay," he muttered, voice low and raw.

Your chest ached at the sound of it, the vulnerability in his tone breaking through that cocky bravado he so often wore.

His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you firmly against him as his breath ghosted over your lips until he closed the distance, his lips crashing into yours with fervor.

You could taste the faint tang of salt and copper, his hand slid up your back, fingers pressing firmly against the curve of your spine as he held you close.

You kissed him back with equal intensity, your hands slipping up to his shoulders before one tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer. A low sound rumbled from his chest, almost a growl, as his teeth grazed your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine. His other hand moved from your waist, his fingers brushing against your jaw to tilt your face upward, deepening the kiss.

When he finally pulled back, his chest was heaving and his eyes were heavy with unspoken emotion.

You lifted your arms shakily, reaching through the bars to pull him closer—only to freeze when your eyes caught sight of his left hand.

“Mike,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you stared at the poorly wrapped bandage that covered his fingers—or rather, where his fingers should have been. The fabric was soaked through with blood, painted a deep crimson. “What happened to your hand?”

He pulled back slightly, following your gaze to his injured hand. For a moment, his expression faltered, the pain flickering briefly across his face before he shook it off with a forced crooked grin.

“Ah, this?” he said, holding up his mangled hand like it was no big deal. “I got into a little argument with a bear trap. You can see how it ended.”

Your eyes widened in horror, but before you could speak, he leaned in closer, his tone softening as he continued talking. “Relax, though. The important stuff’s still intact.” He wiggled his remaining fingers with a mock flourish, then added with a wink, “Still got enough left to hold you, so we’re good, right?”

You let out a shaky breath, your concern still sharp but momentarily softened by his attempt to lighten the mood.

His hands left your waist only to grip the door tightly, his fingers wrapping around the cold metal as he yanked at it with all his strength.

"Come on, you piece of shit—“ Mike grunted, his teeth gritted as he pulled harder. The door groaned under his effort but barely budged.

"Mike—Mike, stop," you interrupted, stepping back slightly. He paused to look at you, panting, his face red and streaked with sweat.

"It opens from this side," you explained quickly. "I already tried everything." Your foot throbbing faintly as you remembered your earlier attempts.

Mike swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair as his gaze flicked upward, scanning the room until they focused on the big crack in the ceiling above you.

"Stay put, babe. Don't go anywhere," he said suddenly, his voice taking on a teasing tone as he stepped back.

You scoffed lightly despite yourself, your lips twitching into a faint smile.

He grinned, that familiar cocky smirk lighting up his face even through the dirt and exhaustion as he turned and jogged toward the far side of the hall, where a set of stairs led to an upper level of the sanatorium.

Seconds later, there was a loud grunt, followed by the sound of something hitting the ground. You looked up just in time to see him drop through the crack in the ceiling, landing with a thud a few feet away. He winced slightly but straightened almost immediately, his gaze locking onto yours as he crossed the room in just a few strides.

Bug and warm arms were around you again, pulling you tightly against him. His face pressed against your shoulder for a moment before he leaned back, just enough to look at you properly.

"I saw you," he murmured softly, his voice rough and low near your ear. "I saw that guy dragging you up here, and I just—" His hands tighten slightly on your waist as if grounding himself. "I ran through the woods like a goddamn lunatic trying to find you…" He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

"If I see that man again, he's dead. I mean it."

Your heart squeezed painfully at his words. You reached up slowly, brushing your fingers against his cheek. The dirt on his skin smeared slightly under your touch and you gave him a small, teasing smile. "You really ran all the way here? In the snow? With barely anything on?"

Mike’s lips curved into a faint smirk, his eyes flickering with a mix of amusement and exhaustion. “What, you think I was gonna just chill out? Cardio’s not optional when you’re trying to save someone’s ass.” His voice was light, but there was a raw intensity in his gaze, betraying just how far he’d go for you.

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing against his cheek to wipe away some of the dirt smudged there.

"Let’s get out of here," you said quietly, your voice laced with affection and determination.

Mike huffed out a laugh, his breath warm against your face as he leaned in closer.

"Absolutely." He muttered, his tone softer now.

The sound of boots against rusted metal reverberated in the room as you and Mike took turns slamming your feet into the stubborn door. Each kick sent vibrations up your leg, the pain from earlier attempts flaring with every impact.

Finally, the door gave way with a metallic shriek. The rusted frame buckled and the door collapsed onto the ground with a loud clang.

Mike was on you immediately, one arm looping around your waist as he pulled you close. "Stay with me," he murmured, his voice low but firm. He pressed a kiss to your temple, quick and reassuring, before taking your hand in his and guiding you forward.

The air outside the room was colder due to the numerous cracks on the walls. The oppressive silence was punctuated only by the faint drip of water leaking from unseen cracks and the groaning protests of the building's ancient infrastructure.

"I’ll take you from where I entered," Mike said over his shoulder, his voice tight as his eyes darted around.

You nodded, following him closely, though every creak of the floor beneath your steps and every distant rustle made your pulse quicken. Peeling paint flaked off the walls like dead skin, revealing rotted wood and rusting steel beneath. The windows were long shattered and the air smelled damp, heavy with mold.

As you made your way through the main hall, a screech pierced the silence. It was distant, echoing from somewhere deeper in the building, but its inhuman quality made your blood run cold.

Mike stopped immediately, his body stiffening. "You heard that too, right?" he whispered, turning his head slightly. He didn't wait for your answer. His grip on your hand tightened briefly before he let go and stepped forward, scanning the room ahead. "Stay here," he said firmly. "I'll check it out."

You were about to protest but he was already pushing open the door to an adjoining room. The door groaned on its hinges before it closed behind him, leaving you alone in the hallway.

Your heart pounded as you strained to hear over the faint whistle of the wind. Something on the floor caught your eye.

Half-buried beneath a pile of debris lay a carved object, its strange shape just visible through the dust and rubble.

You crouched down, hesitating for only a moment before brushing aside the grime and pulling the object free. It was heavier than it looked, the weight solid and cold in your hand. Smooth in some places, splintered in others, as though time itself had tried to erase its details.

The moment you turned it over, the air thickened, the walls around you darkening until they melted away.

You and Mike were running through the hallway. Your breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps as you limped, struggling to keep pace with him.

Mike reached a heavy metallic door, yanking it open with all his strength. his free hand reaching for you as he shouted, waving you forward urgently.

You stumbled inside, your entire body burning with exhaustion. Mike instantly slammed the door shut behind you with a loud, reverberating clang.

And then a grotesque hand, twisted and unnaturally sharp, shot through the broken window of the door before it could fully seal. You barely registered the flash of movement before it swiped across your throat in a sickening arc.

A warm, wet sensation spread down your neck and Mike's face twisted from relief to raw, primal horror.

Your body buckled, falling forward and getting caught in his arms.

"No, no, no, no—“ His voice cracked, the desperation was painful to hear. Blood poured over his hands as he pressed one against your neck, his fingers trembling as he tried to stop it. Tears streaked through the dirt and grime on his face as he shook you gently, his breaths ragged and breaking.

𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝓉ℴ𝓉ℯ𝓂

The sanatorium was like a maze of nightmares. You and Mike moved quickly but cautiously, your footsteps echoing faintly as you descended the stairs to reach the back of the place from where Mike had entered. The lighter flickered in his hand, casting faint, jumping shadows across the walls.

"Almost there," Mike whispered, glancing back at you. His free hand hovered near yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his fingertips. "Just keep close to me, alright?"

You nodded, your lips pressed into a thin line as your eyes darted warily around the darkened corners. Something about it felt wrong, as if you were being watched.

Mike was ahead of you, lighter held high, his head snapping from side to side as he checked the place carefully. His entire body was tense, every muscle coiled like a spring, ready to snap at the first sign of trouble.

You gripped the railing tightly as you took another step, the cold seeping into your fingertips.

A low growl echoed from somewhere close, so sudden and guttural that it made your heart slam into your ribs.

A flash of gray shot out of a hidden passage beside the staircase. The gray wolf that had been with the flamethrower man snarled as it lunged, teeth sinking into your leg, forcing a strangled gasp from your throat as you stumbled backward. The wolf growled, its grip unyielding as it threatened to pull you to the ground.

The bite burned, sharp and immediate as blood quickly began soaking into the fabric of your pants. You tried to shake the wolf off, its teeth locked in like a vice.

"Hey!” Mike's voice roared through the space, cutting through your pain. His footsteps thundered as he ran back toward you.

"Get off him!"

Mike kicked at the wolf's side with all his strength, the impact making the creature stumble back with a growl. The wolf snarled, baring its teeth at Mike. He positioned himself between you and the animal, holding out an arm to keep you behind him as he shouted again and raised his arms to look threatening to the wolf.

"Go on! Get outta here!"

The wolf hesitated, growling lowly, its ears pinned flat against its head. But it soon turned and bolted back into the shadows, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

Mike immediately turned to you, his face pale with worry. "You okay?"

You groaned, trying to stand upright as you grabbed at the stair railing for balance. "It's not that bad."

Mike crouched down slightly, his hands gripping your arms tightly as his gaze dropped to your leg. His lips thinned when he saw the blood seeping through your pant leg. He glared up at you, his face taut with frustration. “Not that bad? Jesus, you're bleeding."

He grabbed your hand to haul you up. "Come on, we've gotta move.”

You struggled to stand, your leg barely able to bear your weight. Mike tightened his grip on you instantly, keeping you upright. "Lean on me," he said, his voice softer now but no less firm.

Each step was agony, but Mike was relentless, his arm never wavering as he practically dragged you down the hall.

The distant growls echoed behind you, they were becoming closer the longer time went by. Was it still the wolf? How could it move so fast and loudly at the same time? You wanted to take a look behind you but it was impossible to do without slowing down Mike in the process.

"Screw this," he muttered under his breath. Before you could protest, he turned and scooped you up into his arms, holding you bridal style like it was nothing.

"Mike—"

"Don't even start," he interrupted, his tone clipped as he was now free to run. "I'm not letting you hobble around while Cujo's out for blood."

You opened your mouth to argue but shut it again when you heard a screech from behind you and him.

Whatever was behind, it was definitely not a wolf.

His heart was hammering beneath your hand, but his grip on you never faltered. You curled your arms around his neck, letting yourself lean into his warmth as he ran.

Mike didn't stop until he reached the door he'd entered through. With a grunt, he kicked it open, the metal slamming against the wall as he set you down as gently as time allowed, his hands steadying you as you leaned against the wall, your chest heaving from exertion and fear.

The heavy door swung shut behind you. Mike leaned against it for a moment, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Your hands instinctively went to the bite, pressing against the torn fabric of your pants. Blood seeped through your fingers, warm and sticky, but as you inspected the wound, you realized it wasn't as deep as it had felt. Painful, yes, but not life-threatening.

"You okay?" Mike's voice was soft but urgent as he crouched in front of you, his hands hovering near your leg. His eyes were dark with worry, his earlier bravado replaced by something more vulnerable. "Let me see."

"Just hurts like hell," you reassured him, though your voice was shaky.

Mike exhaled sharply, his relief visible as he glanced back toward the door. "Stupid fucking dog," he muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening. Turning away for a moment, he rifled through the room as something caught his eyes while you let your muscles relax.

A moment later, he returned with an old, green jacket in his hands. The fabric was worn and frayed in places, but it looked decently warm. He held it out to you, his expression softening slightly.

"Here," he said, his voice quiet. "Put this on. You're freezing."

You shook your head immediately, pushing the jacket back toward him. "You need it more than I do."

"Don’t start," he said, his tone firm but not unkind while shoving the jacket toward you again. "Just put it on."

You crossed your arms stubbornly. "I said no. I'm fine. You're the one who's been running around in the cold."

Mike stared at you for a long moment before cursing under his breath as he slipped the jacket on himself. "Fine. Fine. Are you happy now?" he grumbled, his tone dripping with offense.

You hummed softly, fighting the grin tugging at your lips as you reached forward and straightened the collar of the jacket. "It looks good on you," you whispered, your voice teasing but warm.

Mike's glare faltered slightly. His lips parted and you could see the way his chest rose as he inhaled sharply, the tension bleeding from his body. You brushed a hand against his cheek, your thumb grazing over the faint stubble there.

Mike leaned into your touch without thinking, his eyes softening as they locked onto yours. The corners of his mouth quivered into a faint smile, his warm breath brushing against your face as he pulled you closer by the waist.

"If that wolf comes after you again, I'm turning it into a nice, warm fur coat for you to wear. Deal?" He whispered, his voice low and playful.

You laughed, the sound light and genuine for the first time in hours. Mike's grin widened at the sound, his fingers tightening against your hips.

"My boyfriend deserves only the best, after all," he murmured softly, his eyes fixed on you as your body leaned into his.

ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉 𝒯𝒶𝓎𝓁ℴ𝓇

The wind howled like a wounded animal as you and Matt trudged through the heavy snow, the outline of the radio tower barely visible against the foggy backdrop. Matt’s arm was wrapped snugly around your waist as you both moved in a quiet rhythm.

All of that road for your bag only to being left on the snow the second you heard about what happened to Josh and who did it. You couldn’t believe Josh was dead, you felt so bad for Chris when he told you everything and the sight of Ash covered in Josh’s blood made your your own run cold.

The only thing you could do now was to call for help.

Each step closer to the tower seems heavier, the sight of it towering into the foggy sky sends a ripple of unease through your chest. The closer you got, the harder it became to steady your breathing. Your stomach churned, an uncomfortable knot of fear tightening with every screech of the metal.

Emily marched ahead, her sharp voice cutting through the wind as she barked something about getting to the top quickly and calling for help.

But you weren't listening.

Your gaze was fixed upward. The thought of climbing those stairs made your legs feel weak.

You stopped abruptly, the hand you had around Matt's arm tightened to steady yourself. His warm brown eyes immediately shifted to you, concern flashing across his face as he stopped too.

“What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low and gentle, his brows knitted together as he studied your expression.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. "I can't— I don't think I can do this.” Your voice was soft, cracking at the edges, a stark contrast to the person he was used to.

Your breathing was uneven, your lips slightly parted as if you were struggling to get enough air. There was a sheen of moisture in your eyes, not quite tears, but close enough to make his chest ache. Your brows were drawn together tightly and your jaw trembled ever so slightly. The fear in your expression was unfiltered and seeing it struck something deep within him.

"Hey, hey," Matt said softly, his hand coming up to cradle the side of your face. His thumb brushed gently against your cheek. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

Your hands tightened their grip on his purple jacket, seeking something solid to hold onto. "I don't do heights, Matt. I can't climb that thing." You admitted finally, your voice barely audible over the wind.

Matt was quiet for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line as he processed your words. He could feel the tremble in your hands, the way your body leaned slightly against his. It wasn't like you to be so afraid and it made him want to protect you even more.

"I can wait down here," you said quickly, as if trying to convince yourself as much as him. "You and Emily can go up and—"

"No," Matt interrupted, shaking his head firmly. His hands slid to your waist, holding you steady as his gaze locked onto yours. "I'm not leaving you down here alone. That psycho's still out there. I'm not about to let anything happen to you."

You bit your lip, the familiar warmth of his touch helping to calm the storm inside you, even if only slightly.

You were unsure of how to argue. The idea of being left alone felt awful, especially now, but the thought of climbing that tower was almost worse.

Matt sighed, his expression softening. "Look," he said, his voice low and soothing, "I get it. I do. But I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I'll be right behind you the whole way. Okay? Every step. We'll get through it together."

You looked up at him, the sincerity in his eyes cutting through some of the haze of your fear. His hands tightened slightly on your waist. His unwavering kindness was the only thing keeping you from breaking apart completely.

You nodded slowly, the movement hesitant but enough to show that you were willing to try. Matt's face lit up with relief, a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips.

"That's my guy," he said softly, pressing a kiss to your lips quickly, his hand holding your cheek softly in the process until he pulled away. "I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

Emily's sharp voice cut through the moment, impatient as ever. "Are you two lovebirds done yet? We don't exactly have all night."

Matt turned to glare at her, but there was no real heat behind it. "Give us a second, Em," he shot back before returning his focus to you. "Ignore her. She's just cranky. Probably cold."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips and Matt's heart swelled at the sight of it. His hand lingered on your waist for a second longer before he reached Emily to explain to her the situation.

Emily tone was sharp as she spoke with Matt. His voice was soft, though there was a hint of an edge in it.

While they spoke, you took a small step back, trying to regain your composure. Something caught your gaze on the snow-covered ground. A faint shape sticking out of the frost, partially hidden under a layer of ice and dirt. You crouched, curiosity sparking despite your lingering fear.

A faint pattern like a jagged spiral ran along one side and despite the biting cold, it felt almost warm in your hand. You inspected the artifact, turning it over.

The dark, cramped space pressed in on you as you hid together with Matt. His arm was tight around your shoulders, holding you so close to his chest that you could feel his heart pounding against your back.

Your gaze dropped to your hands where blood was pooling at your fingertips, dripping steadily onto the ground. You clenched your fists, trying to stop the flow, but the crimson drops continued to fall.

A gaunt, twisted figure crawled into view from behind, its movements jerky and unnatural. Its sunken eyes glinted in the dim light as it sniffed the air, its head snapping toward your hiding spot.

𝒟𝒶𝓃ℊℯ𝓇 𝓉ℴ𝓉ℯ𝓂

"Okay, fine," Emily said, throwing up her hands. "But if he slows us down, Matt—“

"He won’t," Matt interrupted, his voice firm but calm. He turned back to you, his expression softening the instant his eyes met yours. "You ready?" he murmured, his voice filled with affection.

You forced yourself to nod. "Yeah. Let’s do this."

The climb to the first level of the tower had been slow but manageable, largely thanks to Matt. But as the three of you approached the second and final part of the climb, the reality of the height struck you again.

Your hands gripping the railing so tightly that your knuckles ached. The world seemed to tilt around you, a dizzying reminder of just how far you'd come… and how much farther you could fall.

"Almost there," Matt called gently from below, his voice cutting through the roar of the wind. "You're doing amazing, babe. Just a little further."

His words were meant to encourage, but you could barely hear them over the pounding of your own heartbeat.

You reached for the trapdoor, your fingers brushing against its icy surface. A sudden gust of wind slammed into you, throwing you off balance and your foot slipped on the icy stare. Your stomach lurching as gravity pulls you backward, barely managing to catch yourself and clutching the metal stairs with both arms in a desperate embrace.

Matt's heart felt like it stopped at the sight of you losing your balance. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" The words tumbled out of him in a rush as he scrambled up a few steps.

You couldn't answer immediately. Your chest heaved as you clung to the cold metal, every fiber of your being focused on not looking down.

A shriller, far less comforting voice spoke from below. "I'm freezing my ass off down here! Just stop looking down! Close your goddamn eyes and open the damn trapdoor already!" Emily's unmistakable tone rang out from the base of the stairs. Her words hit like a slap and you flinched instinctively.

Matt’s usual calm demeanor cracked as he whipped around, his voice firm and louder than you'd ever heard it before. "Yelling isn't going to help, Emily! Just let him calm down, alright?"

Emily's jaw dropped, caught off guard by the sudden bite in Matt's tone. Her shock lasted only a second before wrath flashed in her eyes. "Excuse me?" she snapped, her hands gripping tightly the bars. "At least I'm trying to get him to move! What are you doing besides staring at his ass the whole time?"

Matt reeled back, his cheeks immediately flushing with embarrassment. "I—what?! I wasn't—what are you even talking about?!" he stammered, his words fumbling over each other in a rush to defend himself, unsure of how to even begin addressing her ridiculous accusation.

Despite your shaky state, a small, unexpected laugh bubbled out of you at the absurdity of their argument and it gave you the last bit of strength to open the trapdoor and crawl on the floor of the tower. "I got it," you called down, your voice still trembling but steadier than before.

When Matt reached the top of the stairs, you were still crouched near the trapdoor. Your legs shook slightly as you forced yourself to breathe, to focus on anything but the dizzying height below. You felt Matt kneel beside you, his presence warm and grounding despite the cold wind cutting through the tower.

“Hey,” he said softly, placing his hands gently on your shoulders. His touch was firm but reassuring, his thumbs brushing over the fabric of your jacket.

His face was closer now, and you could see the worry etched into his features. The way his eyes searched yours, as if trying to find the right words to say, made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t expected.

Matt hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. There was a beat of silence, before he leaned forward, his hands sliding to your waist as he pulled you closer.

His lips pressed against yours, soft and warm, the kiss tender but filled with a quiet intensity. When he pulled back, his face lingered close to yours, his forehead almost resting against yours as he exhaled shakily with a small, nervous smile tugged at his lips.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck as he avoided your gaze. “I, uh… I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice quiet but filled with sincerity.

"And for the record," he added quickly, his voice low, "I wasn't staring at your ass. I mean, not on purpose! I mean—" He stumbled over his words, clearly flustered. "I was just… making sure you were safe. Like, in case something happened. Which it didn't! It kind of did, but you know what I mean."

The corners of your lips twitched upward and before you knew it, you were laughing. It was shaky and soft, but it was genuine. The sound seemed to disarm Matt completely and he let out a nervous chuckle of his own, his hands still resting lightly on your shoulders.

"See?" he said, his tone lighter now as his own smile grew. "That's better. You've got a great smile, you know? Way too good to waste on freaking out about some stupid tower."

You shook your head, your laughter fading into a warm smile as you looked up at him. He stood, offering you his hand, letting him help you to your feet.

Your legs felt weak as you stood, gripping onto the nearest surface to keep yourself steady, refusing to glance at the windows and the dizzying drop below. Matt stayed close by your side, his arm brushing against yours, while Emily knelt by the radio, frantically fiddling with its dials as she successfully called for help.

Beneath the roar of the storm, you heard a sharp, metallic thud. Your heart leapt into your throat as the noise echoed through the tower.

Another sound. A loud, deliberate slam against the trapdoor you'd climbed through. Emily screamed as she backed away and hugged herself. The metal vibrated under each blow, the trapdoor shaking violently as someone—or something—tried to force its way inside.

Matt stepped in front of you, his arm shooting out to shield you. He was just as terrified as you were, but he wasn't going to let it stop him.

The banging stopped, leaving a suffocating silence in its wake. Before a sudden, violent lurch threw you off balance as the entire tower shifted, the floor tilting beneath your feet.

Sparks erupted from the radio equipment as the cables outside snapped one by one, the groaning of metal deafening. Wires shorted out, sending a burst of flames crawling up the walls. The air filled with smoke and the acrid stench of burning electronics.

"Hold on!" Matt yelled, his voice barely audible over the chaos. He reached for you, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist as he pulled you against him. His grip was strong as he anchored you to him. His other hand shot out, grabbing onto the handle of a desk bolted to the wall, giving you enough time to grab the desk too.

The tower tilted further and Emily screamed as she fell into the window facing the black ravine. She hit it hard, the glass spider webbing with cracks under the force.

"Emily!" you and Matt cried out, but your voice was lost in the chaos as the tower fell violently on the ravine and got stuck temporarily. The desk Matt was holding onto creaked under the strain, its metal legs groaning before the one holding you snapped with a sickening crack.

The sudden loss of stability sent you sliding backward, the window on your left catching your weight just before the glass shattered, slicing into your skin as half of your body hung out into the void.

Panic exploded in your chest as the freezing wind roared around you. Your hands scrabbled desperately against the broken glass and jagged metal, trying to find anything to hold onto. Blood smeared the glass where your palms dragged across it and a strangled cry tore from your throat as you felt your strength fading.

You were seconds away from falling to your own death before Matt's strong hand gripped your shoulder tightly. You looked up, tears blurring your vision and saw his face.

"I've got you," he said, his voice shaking but steady and eyes wide with fear. "Don't let go."

You choked out his name, your voice trembling with both terror and relief. The sheer force of your panic made your words nearly incoherent, but he understood.

His grip on your shoulder tightened as he braced himself against the crumbling wall. With a grunt of effort, he began to pull you up, his muscles straining as he fought against gravity. You felt the jagged glass dig deeper into your skin as he dragged you back to the top of the tower.

Finally, you were close enough for him to wrap both arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. He buried his face in your neck, his breath warm against your freezing skin. "You're okay," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Your body trembled against his, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins but you clung to him tightly.

The sharp, panicked sound of Emily's voice cut through the chaos like a blade. "Oh, god, Matt, help me!" she screamed, her voice rising above the wind and the groaning of the collapsing tower. The structure swayed dangerously again, causing you to flinch violently as your hands gripped the splintered metallic floor beneath you, too paralyzed by fear to move. The glass shards dug painfully into your palms and your chest heaved with shallow, frantic breaths.

Matt was crouched beside you, his hand brushing over your shoulder in a silent reassurance, though his focus was pulled toward Emily. His jaw was tight, lips pressed together as his head darted between her dangling form and you, trembling on all fours right next to him. "Emily! Just—just hang on!" he shouted back, his voice strained with panic and uncertainty.

"Matt you’ve got to do something right NOW what are you waiting for?!?!" Emily screeched, her hands gripping desperately at the metal beam she was clinging to. Her face was pale, twisted in anger and terror as she tried to haul herself upward.

"I’m thinking! Let me think—" Matt shot back, frustration and desperation bleeding into his tone as he glanced at her precarious position. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to do something, but the chaos made it impossible to think.

"Don’t think, you idiot, just get me out of here!" Emily yelled, her words sharp and cutting.

"Emily, you’re upset, you need to calm down. You’re gonna be fine—"

“Ugh, stop talking, I can’t take it!”

“Stop yelling at me and let me work this out, okay?” Matt’s voice was starting to crack under the pressure. The rare harshness in his tone shocked her into momentary silence, though her glare remained fixed on him.

“No, you stop it! Why do you keep questioning everything I say?! I’m goddamned sick of it!”

As they argued, you trembled next to Matt, your body betraying you under the crushing weight of fear. The dizzying height and the groaning metal beneath you all pressed down like a suffocating hand. Your arms were weak, hands and arms bloody from the shattered glass and your mind was spiraling into dark places you couldn't control. You wanted to move, to help, to say something, but the words wouldn't come as you kept staring down at the metal that kept moving and falling apart beneath you.

Matt extended his hand down to reach for her but the tower moved again, sliding further down and causing Emily to fall further down, her hands gripping tightly the metal were now the only thing keeping her from falling down.

Matt's head whipped toward you as the tower lurched again, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the look on your face. Your eyes were wide, glassy with terror, your lips trembling as shallow gasps escaped you. You looked completely frozen, your normally bright expression replaced with sheer, raw fear. The sight made Matt's chest ache in a way he couldn't describe.

His mind was racing, torn between what to do. He hated seeing you like this, so vulnerable, so scared.

"Matt!" Emily screamed again, her voice grating. He turned back to her briefly, his expression torn. She was hanging precariously, her fingers slipping further with every passing second.

Matt's breath caught in his throat as he realized he couldn't save both of you. The tower was seconds from collapsing entirely.

He had to make a choice.

He couldn't lose you.

Not you.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the chaos occurring.

Emily's head snapped up, her brows furrowed in confusion as she tried to figure out what he meant

Matt moved, his hand gripping tightly your arm as he hauled you to your feet with a surprising strength born of pure adrenaline. "Hold onto me!" he shouted, his voice breaking through your haze of fear.

You barely had time to process his words before he pulled you forcefully against him, his arms locking around you before jumping away from the tower.

The two of you leapt clear of the collapsing tower just as it let out an earth-shattering groan. The entire structure gave way, crashing into the ravine in a deafening roar of twisted metal, shattered glass, and flames.

You and Matt hit the ground hard, the cold bit into your skin, but the sheer force of the adrenaline coursing through your veins dulled everything else. For a moment, you lay there, your body trembling uncontrollably as you tried to catch your breath.

Matt's arms were still around you, holding you tightly as if he couldn't bear to let go. His chest rose and fell against yours, his breaths coming fast and uneven. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes wide and frantic as he scanned your face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You nodded shakily, your words caught in your throat. Your hands gripped his torn jacket tightly. "I'm okay," you managed to whisper, though your voice trembled.

Matt exhaled a shaky breath, relief flooding his features. But as he looked back toward the ravine, the guilt hit him like a physical blow, his shoulders sagging under the weight of it.

"She's gone," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I didn't—" His words broke off, his face twisting with anguish.

You reached up, your hands still trembling, and cupped his face gently. "Matt," you said softly, your voice steady despite the fear still lingering in your chest. "You didn't have a choice. "

His eyes searched yours, desperate for reassurance.

"Thank you for saving me," your voice firm this time as you cradle his head between your hands.

Matt's lips pressed into a thin line, his brow furrowing as tears threatened to spill. "I couldn't lose you," he whispered finally, his voice breaking.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, trembling kiss. His hands cupped your face gently, his touch tender despite the strength that had just saved your life.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and for the first time all night, the tension in his shoulders eased. "I love you," he whispered, the words barely audible but heavy with meaning.

You smiled faintly, your own fear finally starting to ebb away. "I love you too."

For now, at least, you were safe and together.

𝒥ℴ𝓈𝒽 𝒲𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓉ℴ𝓃

The lodge felt emptier than ever.

The silence pressed against you from all sides, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the faint howling of the wind outside. Shadows clung to the corners of the room, flickering faintly with the light of the fire. The crackling flames did little to warm the place.

You sat on the edge of one of the couches, your elbows resting against your knees as you stared at the floor, your vision blurring with tears. One hand gripped the fabric of your jeans tightly, knuckles pale, while the other shakily wiped at your face. Your chest aches and your throat felt tight, like you couldn't quite catch your breath.

Josh was gone.

The image of it was still burned into your mind. It replayed on an endless loop: the look of horror on his face, the blood, the sickening sound of the chainsaw sliding him in half. You couldn't stop hearing it, couldn't stop seeing it, even when you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to force it away.

And worst of all, you hadn't been able to do anything.

The tears started again, hot and unstoppable as they streaked down your face. You drew in a shaky breath, trying to hold it in, trying to keep it together, but the grief was relentless, clawing at your chest like something alive. You dropped your head into your hands, shoulders trembling as you let it out, the quiet sobs muffled by your palms.

You didn't even hear Chris and Ashley enter the room.

Chris's voice broke through the silence, soft but uncertain as he called your name. You stiffened instinctively, brushing at your face quickly as you turned your head, though there was no hiding the tears in your eyes. Chris stood near the doorway, his expression filled with uncertainty and guilt. Ashley hovered beside him, her eyes wide with sympathy, her hands twisting nervously around each other.

You swallowed hard, clearing your throat as you tried to speak. "Hey," you croaked, though your voice cracked on the word.

Chris shifted awkwardly on his feet, glancing toward Ashley for a moment before stepping closer to you. His face was pale and tired, the usual spark of humor in his eyes replaced with something dull and haunted.

"Listen, man…" Chris started, his voice trailing off as if he didn't know how to finish. He ran a hand through his hair, his movements restless. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. About Josh. I can't even imagine…"

He trailed off again, his face contorting slightly as he struggled to find the right words. You could see the guilt written all over him. He'd watched it happen. He'd seen you break down in that moment, screaming and reaching for Josh, even when there was nothing you could do.

The words came softly, but they still cut deep. You didn't want his sympathy. You didn't want anyone's sympathy, because it didn't change anything. Josh was still gone.

But as you opened your mouth to say something, you paused. Chris's face was crumbling, his voice shaking slightly as he spoke again.

"I know how much he meant to you. And… God, I just can't believe it." His voice broke on the last words, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of his grief was too much to bear.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him. Chris was hurting too. Josh wasn't just your boyfriend; he'd been Chris's brother in all but blood.

You sniffed, wiping at your face with the back of your hand before looking up at him.

"I'm sorry for you too," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. "He was your best friend."

Chris's expression twisted painfully and he looked away quickly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice tight. "Yeah, he was,” his eyes were glassy as he looked away.

The weight of his words hung in the air between you, thick and heavy with grief. For a moment, none of you spoke. The only sound was the faint crackling of the fire.

Ashley, who had been silent up until now, moved slightly closer to Chris. She placed a hand gently on his arm, her touch soft but deliberate. Chris flinched faintly at first, but he looked down at her and seemed to understand what she meant

"Right," Chris murmured after a moment, his voice hushed. He looked back at you, his face softening with understanding. "We're, uh—we're gonna head upstairs. Sam should be there.”

You nodded faintly, still not trusting your voice to speak.

Chris hesitated, clearly torn, his eyes flickering toward Ashley and back to you. He looked like he wanted to say more, to stay, but Ashley gave his arm a small tug, silently urging him to leave you alone for now.

"Take your time," Ashley said softly, her voice kind but sad.

Chris let out a breath, nodding at you one last time before turning to follow Ashley out of the room. Their footsteps faded into the distance, and the silence returned, heavier than before.

You sat back against the chair, staring at the fire as tears started to burn your eyes again. It wasn't fair. Josh had been here just hours ago laughing, joking, grinning at you in that mischievous way that only he could. You could still hear his voice teasing you, the way he'd lean close to whisper some ridiculous comment that would leave you rolling your eyes but smiling anyway. He'd kiss you like it was the only thing that mattered, his lips soft and slow and full of affection. Josh had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world.

And now he is gone.

A sob escaped your throat, unexpected and raw and you curled in on yourself, your face pressing into your hands. The ache in your chest deepened, spreading like a crack in glass. It hurts to breathe, to think, to feel.

Josh lingered in the shadows of the lodge, his breathing controlled, almost imperceptible, as he watched you from a distance. The flickering firelight cast faint orange hues across your form, highlighting every shudder of your shoulders, every tremble in your body as you cried alone on the couch.

It had been hard enough to keep his composure when Chris and Ashley had been there with you. But now that you were alone, crumpling under the weight of grief he'd inflicted on you, it was nearly unbearable.

Josh's chest tightened as he watched you wipe your face with trembling hands. The sight alone carried enough pain to gut him. He hadn't anticipated this part of his plan, hadn't thought about how deeply his "death" would cut you, hadn't truly imagined the look of agony on your face as you mourned him.

Josh gritted his teeth, his jaw locking as he turned his head slightly, as though looking away might ease the ache spreading through him.

It didn't.

You were right there and every sound you made carved deeper into him, peeling back layers of guilt he'd tried so hard to bury.

He had envisioned this night countless times in his head, every piece of the plan falling into place. He would take the others to the brink of terror, make them feel the helplessness and fear his sisters must have felt, and then pull back the curtain. Show them that it was all a game, a carefully crafted performance.

They'd be mad, sure, but they'd understand. He wanted them to understand what it felt like to be alone, to lose someone you loved. To hurt the way he had hurt after his sisters disappeared.

But Josh hadn't anticipated how much it would shatter him to see you the way your body curled into itself like you were trying to disappear, to hear the way you whispered his name under your breath soft and broken, like a prayer that would never be answered.

Josh's fingers dug into the wood of the doorframe until his knuckles went white. He felt his chest tighten, his throat working around a lump he couldn't quite swallow.

You'd see. They'd all see. Once everything was finished, they'd finally understand what it felt like.

Josh inhaled sharply through his nose, forcing his gaze back to you. You would forgive him, he was sure of it. By the end of the night, you'd see what he was trying to do. That this whole thing was for you as much as it was for him.

Josh took a step forward, silent as a shadow as he took another. His movements were slow, calculated, as he stalked toward you. His figure wrapped in darkness save for parts of his mask and the edges of the gas mask slung over his shoulder. He kept his breathing steady, his footsteps light, his gaze locked on you.

You were his to protect, his to keep safe. You didn't belong out here with the others. You weren't supposed to suffer because of their sins.

You'd forgive him for this. You had to.

His grip tightened on the gas mask, the rubber creaking faintly under the pressure of his fingers.

His heart hammered in his chest as he hovered just behind you now, close enough that he could see the faint tremors running through your frame. His eyes softened for a brief moment as he crouched slightly, one hand tightening around the strap of the gas mask.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, the words slipping out so quietly he wasn't sure he'd said them at all.

You tensed at the sound, your head snapping up as you turned sharply to look over your shoulder. But before you could see him fully, Josh surged forward.

A sharp gasp escaped you, your body jerking back instinctively, but Josh was faster. He clamped the gas mask against your face, his other hand locking around the back of your head to hold it in place.

Your muffled shout rang through the room, your hands flying up to grab at his arms, your fingers digging into his sleeves as you fought.

Your struggles weakened as the drug took effect, your limbs growing heavy. Josh caught you as you slumped forward, your head resting against his chest. He cradled you in his arms, adjusted your weight carefully before lifting you into a bridal carry with ease.

Your head lolled against his shoulder, breath shallow but steady. He held you tightly, his arms wrapped protectively around you as he began moving through the lodge.

Josh’s grip on you tightened, his mind racing as he carried you through the lodge. He glanced down at your face, vulnerable and peaceful, a pang of guilt striking him even as he pressed you closer to his chest, his body tense with emotion as he moved through the hallways.

Josh's thoughts halted abruptly when his foot struck something hard on the floor. The object skidded across the hall with a faint scraping sound, breaking the stillness. He froze, his grip tightening on you instinctively as his sharp eyes darted downward.

A small wooden carving, unmistakable even in the low light.

Josh shifted your weight in his arms to free one hand. Almost hesitantly, he reached down and picked up the artifact, its rough surface felt rough, even edged under his fingertips. He turned it over in his hand.

You were standing in the middle of a dark place somewhere. Half of your body is submerged in water. You were frozen, eyes wide and glassy with terror. Your body was completely rigid, as though you couldn't move even if you wanted to.

Then a grotesque, elongated hand reached into view, its skin pale and stretched unnaturally tight over jagged bones. Its fingers twitched as they clamped down with horrifying force. The hand gripped your face tightly, its long, claw-like fingers pressing into your skin as if it meant to crush your skull.

ℒℴ𝓈𝓈 𝓉ℴ𝓉ℯ𝓂

Finally, Josh reached the room he'd prepared. The door creaked as he pushed it open, revealing a small, dimly lit space with a sturdy lock. He stepped inside, carefully setting you down on the couch in the corner. Your head lolled slightly as he adjusted your position, ensuring you were comfortable.

He knelt beside you, his hands trembling as he cupped your face. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice barely audible. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks, tracing the lines of your face as if trying to commit every detail to memory.

Josh pulled back reluctantly, his hands lingering on your face for just a moment longer.

"You'll understand soon. I promise." He murmured, his voice soft but firm.

With one last glance, he stood and stepped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. As the lock turned, he felt a pang of guilt so sharp it nearly brought him to his knees. But he pushed it aside, forcing himself to focus.

You are safe now. That was all that mattered to him.

𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈 ℋ𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓁ℯ𝓎

The basement was cold, darker than you'd expected, with a damp, heavy air that clung to your skin. The dim overhead light buzzed faintly, casting flickering shadows along the cracked stone walls.

You were in the lead, your pace quick and determined despite the growing fear gnawing at your chest. Your older sister, Sam, was down here somewhere, you knew it. She had to be. Every instinct told you to find her before it was too late.

"Sam's smart," Chris said from behind you, his voice low but steady as he tried to keep up with you, though you could hear the slight tremor of uncertainty beneath his words. "If she's down here, she's probably already figured out a way to hide or something. Right, Ash?"

Ashley nodded, her steps careful as she moved beside Chris, her flashlight cutting weakly through the shadows.

You didn't turn to look at them, focus locked on the narrow hallway ahead. The stone walls felt too close, the air heavy with dust and decay, your hands curling into fists as you marched forward.

"Hey, slow down!" Chris called after you, his voice laced with concern. "We don't know what's down here."

You ignored him, your flashlight sweeping frantically across the walls and floor for any sign of her. The further you moved, the more the basement seemed to twist and turn, like a labyrinth.

The three of you continued deeper into the basement, the narrow hallway opening into a larger, more cavernous space. The walls here were rougher, the stone uneven and jagged in places and the faint smell of mildew lingered in the air.

"This place is insane," Chris muttered under his breath, his flashlight sweeping over the walls as he took in the eerie space. "Why does a lodge even have something like this? It's like a whole new place down there."

There was now a narrow corridor where the walls seemed to close in, the ceiling lower now, the air damp and stale. You paused for a moment to catch your breath, your flashlight flickering briefly as you swept it across the space.

Your eyes fell on something in the corner of the corridor-a faint shimmer, like something metallic. You moved toward it quickly, ignoring the chill that ran up your spine.

It was a small, cracked mirror, its surface marred with streaks of grime and dust. Beside it sat an old, rusted lantern, long extinguished. No sign of Sam. Just more emptiness.

Your chest tightened, disappointment and frustration flaring hot and sharp. You slammed a fist against the wall, the sound echoing in the narrow space. "Dammit!"

"Hey," Chris said gently, stepping closer. "We'll find her, okay? You don't have to-"

"Don't tell me to calm down!" you snapped, turning on him suddenly. "She could be down here hurt, scared, alone and we're just…" You trailed off, your voice shaking as the words caught in your throat.

Chris froze, his expression softening. He didn't argue. He just stood there, his face pale in the faint glow of his flashlight, like he wasn't sure what to say.

Ashley shifted uncomfortably beside him, her brow furrowed with worry. "We're all scared but you're not alone in this, okay? We'll find her." She said quietly, her voice soft but steady.

You didn't reply. You couldn't. Your hands were shaking and you couldn't tell if it was from anger, fear, or something worse. Instead, you turned away from them and pressed forward again, following the set of narrow stairs descended further into the earth, the edges of the stone steps worn smooth from years of use.

"Hey, wait up!" Chris called, his footsteps hurrying to catch up with you. "We should stick together, man."

You ignored him, your mind too preoccupied with thoughts of Sam. The flashlight's beam swept across the walls, illuminating strange markings and stains that made your imagination run wild.

Their words barely registered as you moved further into the room, your heart pounding heavily in your chest. You scanned the floor and walls carefully, your eyes darting between every crack and crevice for any sign of your sister.

Then, something caught your eye.

Near the base of an old wooden crate, partially hidden beneath a pile of dust and debris, was a strange object. You crouched down slowly, brushing the dirt away. Its weathered surface felt cool and rough beneath your fingertips as you picked it up, the intricate patterns on its surface oddly mesmerizing.

Your fingers wrapped around it and you shifted it to analyze the foreign object.

You were inside a dark, broken-down shelter, your back pressed against the rough wood of the wall.

You were frozen, your body stiff with fear as your wide eyes stared forward. Across the room, something tall with unnatural limbs moved slowly. Its hollow eyes scanned the room, letting out a high-pitched screech that echoed, clawing at your nerves.

Chris stood at the doorway of the shelter. His face was pale, frozen in terror as he raised the rifle in trembling hands as his finger squeezed the trigger.

𝒢𝓊𝒾𝒹ℯ 𝓉ℴ𝓉ℯ𝓂

Ashley placed a gentle hand on Chris’s arm, drawing his attention away from you. "You think she is hiding somewhere?" She suggested softly, though her voice trembled slightly.

Chris hesitated, glancing between her and the darkened stairs leading further down. "Yeah it could be," he said. He shifted his flashlight, his shoulders tense. "You should go back upstairs. Check the second floor again. Sam could've found somewhere to hide up there that we missed."

Ashley nodded slowly, her expression troubled. "You really think so?"

"It's worth a shot," Chris said, his voice quieter now.

Ashley bit her lip, glancing toward you with a look of worry etched across her face, her flashlight beam catching your face as she gave you a small, hesitant smile. "Ве careful down here, okay?"

"I will," you replied, your voice steadier now.

Ashley lingered for a moment longer, her gaze filled with concern, before nodding and heading back toward the staircase. The sound of her footsteps echoed faintly as she climbed, growing softer and softer until they disappeared entirely.

Chris turned to you, his expression serious as he adjusted the flashlight in his hand. "Alright," he said, his tone quieter now. "Let's figure this out. If Sam's down here, we're going to find her."

The dim, flickering light in the psycho's basement painted the horrifying scene in muted, sickly hues. The walls were cold, damp concrete, but they were far from empty. Photos of you and your friends on a wall, each one marked with red slashes, circles, and Xs. Some were crossed out completely, others circled with jagged edges, and the sight sent a shiver crawling down your spine.

In one corner, a row of gutted pigs hung from rusted hooks, their carcasses swaying faintly with every breath of stale air in the room. The metallic stench of blood was suffocating, mixing with the damp and decay to create an unbearable cocktail of rot. You gagged, your hand instinctively covering your nose and mouth as you tried to focus on anything else.

Chris's hand found your arm, his grip firm but trembling slightly. He pulled you closer to him, his flashlight beam sweeping nervously over the gruesome display. "Stay close to me," he murmured, his voice low but filled with tension.

You nodded silently, your heart pounding in your chest as you moved together through the darkened space.

She was out there, somewhere in this hellhole. You had to find her. You had to.

Your breaths came faster, shallower, the edges of your vision tingling as your chest began to ache. The panic set in, sharp and consuming.

"Sam…" you whispered shakily, your hand pressing against the center of your chest as it started to burn.

"Hey, hey, whoa." Chris turned to you quickly, his flashlight swinging wildly as he grabbed your shoulders. "You okay?"

Chris pulled you closer, his hands firm and steady against you. "Hey. Look at me, alright? Look at me."

You forced yourself to meet his gaze. Chris's face was pale and tense, but his eyes were focused, his voice steady as he spoke. "You need to calm down. Just breathe, okay? Slow and deep. In and out. Like this."

He exaggerated his breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly as he held you against him. "Come on, you can do this."

You tried to follow his example, your breaths coming out shaky and broken at first. But Chris didn't let go. He held you there, his arms wrapping protectively around you as he pulled you against his chest.

The steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his hold grounded you, pulling you back from the sharp edge of panic. Slowly, the burning in your chest began to fade, replaced by the sound of Chris's heartbeat against your ear.

"Better?" he asked quietly, looking down at you.

You nodded weakly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as you exhaled shakily.

Without thinking, you leaned in, your lips brushing his in a soft, fleeting kiss. It was barely a whisper of contact. A wordless thank you, a quiet plea for comfort, and something deeper you couldn’t yet put into words. Your breath mingled with his, the closeness leaving a faint heat between you even as you pulled back.

"Thanks, Chris."

Chris’s face flushed instantly, his eyes wide and startled. His hand hesitated for a moment before coming up to cup your cheek, his touch gentle and careful, as though you might shatter under his fingertips.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, cracking slightly with emotion. His thumb brushed over your skin, his lips curving into the faintest, most heartfelt smile.

Then you heard it.

A scream ripped through the basement, sharp and desperate and your stomach twisted violently as you recognized the voice. "Sam!" you shouted, your voice cracking as you broke away from Chris, running toward the source of the sound.

"Wait!" Chris called after you, but his voice was distant, drowned out by the adrenaline roaring in your ears.

You sprinted toward a room at the far end of the basement. Your hands were shaking as you pushed the two doors open, gripping the handle tightly before throwing it open.

Inside, a single chair sat in the right corner of the room, its frame worn and splintered. Someone was sitting there, slumped forward, their body motionless.

"Sam," you whispered, your throat tight with fear.

You approached slowly, your steps hesitant as the world seemed to narrow around you. The air felt thick and suffocating as your hand reached out, trembling as you gripped the back of the chair and turned it around.

A mannequin stared back at you, a mask of a clown on it’s face. It was dressed in Sam's clothes. Your breath caught in your throat, a sickening wave of confusion and dread crashing over you as you stumbled back.

A sound came from behind. You turned sharply, just in time to see Chris stumbling backward, his flashlight clattering to the floor.

"Chris!"

The psycho loomed behind him. In one hand, he held a gas canister attached to a mask that he pressed to Chris’s face. Chris choked as he thrashed against the grip until he succumbed to the gas.

The psycho turned sharply, his movements swift as he lunged for you. You tried to backpedal, but his gloved hand shot out, closing around your neck with brutal strength.

Your body hit the wall hard, flashlight falling from your grasp. You gasped for air, clawing at his hand as he squeezed, his mask reflecting the faint light in distorted angles.

Your fists pounding against his chest in desperate, useless strikes. The edges of your vision darkened, your chest burning as your lungs fought for air.

Then you felt the cold metal of the gas mask press against your face. The faint hiss of the anesthetic filled your ears, and your struggles grew weaker. Your arms dropped to your sides, your legs giving out as darkness swallowed you whole.

You woke up to the sound of heavy breathing and the faint clink of metal. Your head throbbed painfully, your vision swimming as you tried to focus. Slowly, the room came into view. A cold, gray space lit by a single flickering bulb

Your wrists were tied tightly to the arms of a chair, the rough rope biting into your skin. Across from you, Chris sat in a similar chair, his face pale and streaked with sweat. One of his hands was free, but the other remained bound, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the chair.

There was a gun on the table between you and him.

You groaned, blinking against the faint light.

Chris stirred, his head jerking up as he blinked rapidly. When his gaze landed on you, his face twisted with panic.

"Shit," he muttered, trying to pull at the ropes around his wrist. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

You winced, your throat aching with every breath. "I… I'm fine."

Chris's eyes darted to your neck. The purple bruises from the psycho's grip were already forming, faint lines marring your skin. His free hand clenched into a fist.

"I'm gonna murder his fucking face off," Chris growled, his voice low and sharp with barely restrained rage.

Before you could respond, the steady whir of machinery made your blood run cold. You looked up to see a series of big chainsaws mounted to the ceiling, its blade spinning as it began to descend slowly toward the two of you.

A distorted voice echoed through the room.

"Hello, there, my special little subjects. Here’s the twist: Chris has made one fatal choice already today, and now he must make another one. Chris, you can take the gun in front of you and shoot him, or you can shoot yourself. Whoever is left: lives”

Chris raised the gun up on the ceiling, pointing it at the chandelier and pulling the trigger over and over. You flinched at hearing the sound of gunshots so up close.

Chris paled instantly, his face twisting in disbelief as the chainsaw remained unscathed and kept moving down towards your heads.

His breathing grew ragged as his gaze darted between the gun and you. Your heart clenched painfully as Chris pointed the gun at the base of his neck, hands trembling and teeth clenched so tightly you could see the tension in his jaw, his breaths fast and uneven, hissing through his teeth as if the air was being forced out.

The barrel of the gun wavered slightly, his finger hovering over the trigger. For a moment, his lips parted, a faint whisper escaping that was too quiet to hear. His body shook with the effort of holding the weapon steady, the weight of his decision pressing down on him.

"Chris!" you shouted, struggling against the ropes. "Don't you dare!"

His lips trembling as he tried to steady his hand. "I love you," he whispered, his voice breaking.

Tears were now blurring your vision as you fought with everything you had to break free.

Chris closed his eyes, took a final, shaking breath and pulled the trigger.

Note: let me know if you had a favorite among the four. I’d love to hear your thoughts! <3 I’m also open to any feedback or constructive criticism you might have.

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consciouscarrot · 3 months ago

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day 20 - skin to skin cuddling [m.murdock]

matt murdock x fem!reader

content warnings; angsty fluff, panic attacks, minor and brief self harm (scratching at face and chest during panic attack), non-sexual nakedness

notes; ngl i kept forgetting that he was blind when i wrote this, so if you notice anything about him seeing smth, no you didn’t. very late bc i was v tired

kinktober/flufftober masterlist

—————

matthew wished that you weren’t like this, not out of any selfish wants, but because he couldn’t bare to see the petrified look on your face when your anxiety got the best of you, and your body shut down.

he’d gotten back late from patrolling as the devil, rushing home when he’d gotten close enough to hear your desperate gasps for breath and pounding heartbeat. he’d found you on your knees, upper body curled in on itself and hands clasped over your chest, trying to claw away the terror wracking over you.

he’d knelt down next to you, purposefully breathing loud and slow, hoping you’d eventually be able to copy his pattern. he hated the way his blood soaked hands tarnished your soft face, crimson smearing over salt-stained cheeks when he begged you to calm down, wanting you to focus on his face instead of whatever thoughts your anxiety had gripped its claws into tonight.

you blubbered out apologies, voice cracking as you begged for him to make it stop. you dug your sharp nails into your face, dragging them down to your chest, desperately attempting to bring yourself out of your panic with pain.

he quickly grasped your arms, large hands smothering yours, hoping that you’d use him instead. blood trickled from the thin cuts, split flesh reddening as you cried out, squirming in his hold.

“breathe with me, slowly, honey,”

he took a big, deep breath, counting the seconds in his head, before holding it for four, then exhaling. he repeated that over and over again, patiently waiting for you to copy him, squeezing your hands in gentle encouragement when you eventually did.

the two of you breathed together for a long time, your heart steadily calming down as shakes began to wrack your body, exhaustion flooding over you.

he never stopped the exaggeration of his breaths, waiting for you to be ready to move, knowing that any unwelcome touches or movements could set you off again, that you needed to be in control after going through something so debilitating, stripping you of all your power.

eventually, you lifted up slightly, only having enough energy to whisper a soft ‘bed please’, clinging desperately to him the best you could in your exhausted state.

he picked you up, careful to hold your head against his shoulder so you wouldn’t lull it backwards, walking over to his bed and placing you down on it. he could smell the iron on your clothing and skin, having transferred off of him.

he kept your same tone, quietly telling you that he was going to take off both your messy clothes, only continuing when you sleepily nodded your consent, hair mussing against the pillow.

he stripped you down completely, then himself before quickly wetting a washcloth in the bathroom, cooing when you whimpered your complaints of him leaving you.

dragging the warm, damp material across your skin, paying special attention to the scratches, wiping away the small droplets of blood that had collected along the lines. he watched some of the tension begin to ebb from your body, previously tense muscles slowly relaxing at the soothing motions, finally feeling safe and secure now that he’d returned home.

he barely bothered with cleaning himself up, deciding that he couldn’t bare to be so far from you for even a second longer, figuring that he could just wash the sheets later that day, after you’d had some much deserved rest.

he slid under the covers, bare skin pressed against yours, wrapping his strong arms around you. you sighed contentedly, breath warming his chest as you thoroughly attached yourself to him, snuggling forwards to make sure the two of you were as close as possible.

“thank you, matty,”

“it’s okay, always gonna protect my girl, even from herself,”

his hand stroked strands of hair out of your face, thumb sliding down the bridge of your nose, wincing inwardly at the feel of your inflamed skin, metallic scent clinging to the self-inflicted scratches.

kissing the top of your head, he encouraged you to lean into the crook of his neck, face pressed against the tender skin. he rubbed up and down your naked back, intently paying attention to the way your chest expands and contracts, listening to your soft breathing, silently praying that it wouldn’t begin to pick up again.

of course, he wished that you didn’t have to go through this, hating every second that you gasped for breath, despising that your mind was reeling with self-deprecating thoughts and worries of terrible things that most likely would never happen. but, he did selfishly love the moments after, where you were too tired to resist his doting on you, where you let him take care of you fully and you would spend hours wrapped up in his arms.

he fell asleep to your soft snores against his chest, limbs still entangled together as he heard the city begin to wake, falling into a deep slumber with nothing to worry about but you.

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trevorsgodmother · 17 days ago

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𝓟𝓪𝓼𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓵𝓽 𝓭𝓪𝓭𝓭𝔂 (C.S ⭐️)

☞ Masterlist Warnings: Mentions of the word 'daddy' (throws up), swearing, Chris being an idiot, nothing else tbh POV: First person (reader) Summary: Chris, your boyfriend, is having dinner with your family for the first time. But a small request turns things awkward...

After the introductions, we all sit down at the table. Me, Chris, my older brother, and my parents. It had been nerve wracking for both of us, especially me. I'd been scared of Chris meeting my dad, since the latter is protective and doesn't take bullshit. Chris is a fairly goofy guy, but he managed to tone it down for this evening.

At least, I thought.

Everything is going good, the food’s warm, conversation’s flowing, and it’s a generally comfortable atmosphere. Until I think about my food too hard. While my brother’s chatting about hockey with Chris, my taste buds alert my brain of something missing.

Salt. I look around the table until my eye catches the green shaker, situated between the plates of my dad and my boyfriend. It’s too far out of my reach, so I innocently call out.

“Pass the salt daddy?”

In the moment right after, I realise my mistake. Oh shit-

My dad reaches for the salt. And so does Chris. The young boy freezes, but it’s too late to act like he was stretching. My dad freezes too, his gaze narrowing.

My brother’s jaw drops. My mum looks shocked. All because of one, stupidly sexualised word (FOR NO REASON). Chris laughs awkwardly, trying to play it off. “Hehe, uh, funny joke, right?” I mentally grab his collar and shake some sense into him. That idiot.

I fake laugh too, smacking his arm hard enough that he realises his acting is horrible. My dad does not think it’s a funny joke.

His voice is cold as he replies. “Now tell me son, why did you go for the salt shaker when she asked me to grab it?” Chris swallows, looking for me for help. But after the initial surprise, I was struggling to hold back a laugh. My brother was snorting into his sleeve. Even my mother was giggling a little. Chris looked hopeless, getting flamed by this older man while his family were all finding this hilarious.

“He didn’t mean it dad, c’mon. It was a joke” Chris eagerly nods, agreeing with me. “Yes sir- it was a joke, sorry-��

My dad sized the poor boy up for a torturous amount of time. The clock ticking on the wall fills the deafening silence as we listen for his ‘verdict’.

He waits, one minute, two, before shaking his head and sighing.

“You kids and your weird humour. I’m too old for this”

Chris immediately relaxes, an easy grin spreading across his face, before my father’s stern expression makes him sit up.

“Uh, you don’t seem old sir. You could fool me” I shoot an incredulous look at him. What the fuck was he saying?

He only gets a blank reaction from my dad. Before he breaks out into a roaring laugh, shattering the tension.

“You’re just like me when I was your age boy” Chris perks up, but his face lights up as my dad adds, with a somewhat disturbed look.

“Except I didn’t make my girlfriend call me daddy”

A/N: Guys I have no motivation to finish my Matt fic yet, so here you go! I thought about this idea one night and started laughing. Lil goofy lowk Also it’s 11pm, so ignore any grammar mistakes please and thank yew ✨ TL: @hearts4werka @stvrnzcherries @spaghetti835928383 @pvssychicken @snowysosturn @sturnmeovr Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws <3 -Ropitipop 👁👅👁

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fandom #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo tumblr #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris x reader #chris x y/n #rop'sblog #rop'sfics

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missmimii · 7 months ago

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☏ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐒 | 𝐌 － 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

－ 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | In which Matt and the reader have a long distance relationship due to his career, the lonely aspects of the relationship catches up to the reader.

୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. Brief mentions of mental health, and a whole lotta angst ♡︎

ℳ𝒾𝓂𝒾’𝓈 𝓃ℴ𝓉ℯ𝓈 －Almost 300 followers? Ily all so freaking much

☆彡－ The vibration from the girls phone tickles her palm, the sound of static dialling being the same sound that filled her ears before she succumbed to sleep every single night, for the past nine months. He’s probably busy, the time zone is all over the place, maybe he forgot. With a sigh of defeat, her phone fell from her hand and toppled on the pillow aside her. “Hey it’s me Matt－they already know that if they’re calling you － shut up Nick,” her eyes fell shut, a lazy smile gracing her lips as she listened to his voicemail. “I’m probably sleeping or driving if I didn’t a answer this call, so .. call me back later? －just end it!”

☽－ She felt her body numb to feeling disappointed or sadness, too wracked with grief and exhaustion to care whether or not her boyfriend was purposely dodging her calls. It was rare when he did, but she’d notice it being a reoccurring event for the last few days. Matt would send her short texts throughout the day, a soft smile appearing on her lips as she swiped up on them with her thumb at work. ‘Sometimes I wish I was an owl.’ Was a particular one she found herself amused by.

☆彡－ His added reply came not long after, said amusement growing by ten. ‘just so I could fly across the world and see you.’ The girls heart warmed at the silly clarification, the miniature interaction between the two sealed in the back of her mind permanently. This was rare, seeing as Matt often forgot to open anyone’s texts, let alone send back a reply. And in result of that, FaceTimes and phone calls were the couples main source of communication.

☽－ As the girl’s eyes fluttered back open, she was met with her own reflection. The mirror faced aside her bed, aiming perfectly at the outline of her body that was positioned on her side. It was faint, the image of her own body. All that could be seen was the hair framing her face, a faint view of her nose and eyes. Darkness enveloped her entire bedroom, the only source of light being found from the street lights blaring in through her window.

☆彡－ With a drawn out sigh, she slipped a hand under the pillow her head rested on, shifting a bit to find comfort. God, she was restless without his voice. Sleep came easier after coming to terms with Matthew’s absence, but it didn’t cure it. Nothing but him could cure this pit in her heart.

☽－Buzzzzzz’. Vibration rattled neck to her ear, sending a shiver through her body as she peeled her eye lids open. As much as she did want to grasp her cellphone, the hesitation that fell over her kept her set in stone from her lying frame. It didn’t matter how much she tried to convince herself that he was busy, or that he fell asleep － the girl knew he’d forgotten. Beep.

☆彡－ Beep.The ‘Missed call’ icon was the top notification her eyes laid on as she powered her phone on, upon one message underneath. “You awake?” It read, making the girl’s thumb halt against the screen. Whatever, she thought to herself, fingers tapping across the surface. “I can’t sleep.” The girl replied, seconds after being sent his name popped up across the top of her screen. Incoming call: Matty.

☽－ “Baby,” Matt’s voice came through the speaker, a hint of husk in his octave from sleep deprivation. She wasn’t the only one who lacked sleep in each other’s absences. Silence filled the male’s end of the phone for a moment before he spoke again. “I’m sorry for missing your call.” Too sorry to send a message?

☆彡－ The tired girl’s lips parted to speak but only elicited a soft yawn, making Matt’s lips twitch. “S’okay,” pulling her hand from under her pillow, she grasped her phone and sat it on her chest while rolling onto her back. Boom, boom, boom. The triplet let his eyes slip shut as he stretched out across his mattress, feeling warmth course through his body at the sound of the girl’s heart pattering through the speaker. He missed the real thing so badly. “You sleepy, kid?” He murmured lowly, fighting a yawn himself.

☽－ “hm?” She misses his hands against her skin, she yearns for his sweet nothings to be lulled against her ear as she slept － she missed him so fucking bad. Matt opened his eyes, hearing her barely audible sniff. “How much did you sleep last night?” He knew. The girl sighed, shaking her head, forgetting he couldn’t see her. “That’s so boring, what did you do today?”

☆彡－ Matt immediately shot in. “Don’t do that.” He stressed, running a hand down his face in frustration. Guilt wrecked the boy inside out, churning his stomach as he fought his inner subconscious. Why did he have to be such a douche? The least he could’ve done was answer her call. Sigh. “I’m tired.” He heard the girl’s meek tone utter.

☽－ The girl felt her chest tighten, emotions running high in her system. So long she kept them in, knowing that Matt had no way of fixing the pain that tore her apart. Too far, he was too far to fix her. “.. I’ll call more often －” Matt trailed off, hearing a small whimper come from his girlfriend’s end, statics breaking the sound apart. “baby,” oh god, what has he done to his girl.

☆彡－ Suddenly wide awake, he shuffled up in bed, resting his back against his headboard while holding his phone in his one hand. “Listen to me, doll.” Matt attempted to get ahold of the girl, running a hand down his jaw. Cries emptied her throat, a blubbering mess she became as the exhaustion fell over her entire body. “I’m so tired.” So tired. Her head felt heavy with unspilled tears that begged to fall, making her skull ache as she buried her the side of her face into her pillow.

☽－ The pillow no longer carried the natural scent of the male, the lack of his presence resulting in a faint linen smell, along with a slight undertone of his musk. When he left it smelled just like him. But just like him, it was fading. “Why didn’t you call last night?” She whispered finally. “Baby-” she cut in. “Or the night before?” Or the night before.

☆彡－ Matt’s eyes flicked down to his side, breathing out a stuttered breath as his hand fisted the blanket next to him. Owl’s could fly. His hand slipped around the plush material, bringing it to his face as he breathed in the aroma of her. “Take it,” she giggled, Matt’s eyes rolling playfully as he felt the warmth weigh on his shoulders. “Is it really necessary?” He murmured, seeing his girlfriend’s eyes narrow. “pretend it’s me hugging you whenever you cover up at night.” Matt blew out a chuckle, but pondered on her words. Maybe he should take it..

☽－He awaited the end of her sobs and pained cries as he squeezed his eyes shut, a lone trail of water escaping the corner of his eye, sliding down his cheek leisurely. Not that he’d voice it in such a selfish manner, but hearing his poor girl in such a way left his chest aching in a way he was convinced hurt more than her. Matt couldn’t hold her, look at her as she broke apart, or even talk to her, fearing that he’d end up revealing his sorrow, but in tears.

☆彡－The girl shakily placed a hand atop her mouth, because when it rained, it poured. And it wouldn’t stop －it poured down on her entire body. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the fact that she’d cried everything out she could muster, but slowly her cries calmed into hiccups, and the hiccups drifted into sniffs. Boom, boom, boom. Both parties unknowingly listening to each’s pumping hearts, the two fell an inner deprived feeling of sleep come over their bodies.

☽－ Eyes fluttering shut, dried tears coating water-lines, trembling of hands. “I don’t even like owl’s.” A husky voice spoke up, the end of his sentence crackling a bit as he heard his girlfriend shuffle around in her no cold bed. Matt rubbed his one eye with his two fingers, water tainting the skin as he heaved in a breath that fought away sobs. “I don’t like planes, birds － I don’t like anything, really.” She listened overtop his heart. Boom, boom, boom.

☆彡－“But I’d rather face everything I don’t like in this world if it meant I’d face the one thing I love.” Her, it would always be her. It didn’t matter how many midnight calls he’d missed, or whether or not he texted her meaningless messages throughout the day －that really did have meaning, Matt would always choose her. He wouldn’t choose a FaceTime call, a picture － every single time, he’d pick her. Face to face, skin to skin contact, eye to eye, lips to lips － just his girl.

☽－ Despite loving the melody of her tired voice at night, just before he drifted off into a broken slumber, it wasn’t enough. He craved the feeling of her warm body pressed against his as they slept, the scent of her hair blowing into his nostrils as he placed affirming grazes and touches against her untainted skin. Because the love he felt for her across the world, was too strong for an electronic device － or mere words.

☆彡－ Boom, boom, boom. “Matt..” A mixture of her own heart and voice filled his ears, and for one second, it felt real. So real that he swore he felt the itch of her hair falling against her neck as her back pressed into his front. So fucking real, that he felt like there was a chance for a split second. “Call me tomorrow? Please －” but it wasn’t.

☽－ “No.” Her eyes drew open, the pattering in her chest shattering while falling to her gut. No? － “I can’t do it anymore －I can’t handle it.” Matt’s voice cracked nearing the end of his confession, the gut wrenching sound being followed by his harsh inhale. Don’t cry, Matt － don’t fucking cry. “I need you here － or there. Anywhere. Fuck, I’d drop everything in a heartbeat if it meant I could have you now. Feel you, be with you.”

☆彡－ If you loved me you would, she didn’t care to say. But she almost did. Because it wasn’t until he was thousands of miles away, that she dared to question his love for her. “Then do it.” The girl whispered, hearing her boyfriend’s breath hitch. Rolling onto her back, she sucked in a deep sigh. “Because I’m not sure how much longer I can handle it.” The statement was a reminder we that not only he felt such a way, it was consuming the both.

☽－ Boom, boom, boom. “I’ll have Laura book my flight tonight.”

𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈 － @fratbrochrisgf @jetaimevous @sturnstvr @sturnrc @stonermattsgf @imwetforyourmom @st7rnioioss @endereies

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #writers on tumblr #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #christophersturniolo #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #oh yeah

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mattsbows · 1 month ago

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mirrorball!reader. . .meets chris for the first time ♡

this was what you had been waiting for. you and chris had been flirting over instagram dm’s for weeks now. finally, your talking stage had gotten up the nerve to invite you to one of the infamous sturniolo brother parties, with the added sweetness of asking you to come over early to pregame.

you knew these parties were for only the most popular of influencers, with people like sam and colby and tara yummy on the guest list. that’s why you’d made the executive choice to bring your best friend, a nursing student, with you. you knew chris wouldn’t mind; in fact, he’d even said himself in a message to you that he was wrapped around your finger.

your hands shook as you stepped out of the uber. this was the first real LA party you had been to since your socials blew up. you were an absolute social butterfly, but knowing celebrities would be around you tonight was slightly nerve wracking.

your best friend followed you up the steps to the front door of the triplet’s enormous home. refusing to drop your confident demeanor, you knocked on the door while your best friend stood behind you, anxiously picking at her sparkly, pink minidress.

shortly after the first knock, the door flew open, revealing chris in a backwards, red baseball cap and a red and gray jersey. “hey,” he smiled, eyes raking over your body that was clothed in a short, black dress. “ya look good.”

you blushed at the compliment, allowing chris to lead you two through the house to the kitchen. the house was massive. sure, the money you had started to make from social media definitely helped pay for your dorm, but this was another level of fame. the kitchen was already filled with people, despite chris saying it would be a “small” pregame. not to mention, most of the attendees were people with millions of followers and subscribers.

“drinks?” chris asked, gesturing to the array of liquor bottles on the granite countertop.

you made sure that you and your friend both poured your own drinks, well aware of the party scene. despite your nerves, the next few moments flew by. talking to chris, especially when there was a cup in your hand, was easy. it felt natural, like you had known each other for ages and not just through instagram dms.

“you wanna go to my room?” chris asked you abruptly. “only if you want to.” he added hastily.

you smiled, eyes trained on his moist, pink lips. “i’d love to.” you replied, the alcohol beginning to take effect.

as chris led you towards the stairs, you looked back at your friend, who had been swept up into a conversion with chris’ quieter brother, matt. “good luck.” she mouthed, giving you a wink.

the lower level of the sturniolo household was quieter as chris pushed open the door to his bedroom. it was rather neat, which just made your heart more fond of chris. you hated boys who didn’t even clean up for you to come over.

“y’know…you’re different,” chris hummed, inviting you to sit on the bed with him. “but i like it a lot. you see past the whole…famous thing.”

“i do know that outward appearances aren’t everything.” you explained, taking another sip of your drink.

by now, chris was beginning to scoot closer to you, clearly nervous. “i just think that we have really good conversations and i dunno, i feel like you just-”

the boy was cut off by you caressing the side of his cheek with your manicured hand. “chris. shut up and kiss me.” you giggled.

chris turned scarlet red at your wonders, realizing he was that obvious. “happily.” he murmured, hand coming up to caress your neck.

and with that, his lips met your own, starting the beginning of what would be the best, and most therapeutic, period of your life.

a note from the author: i love these two so bad what the fawk. enjoy and leave asks about mirrorball!!

❁ tags: @mattsdemi @purpledragon222 @slxtarchive @natashad0627 @quinnysnursery @tyummyz @colorthecosmos444 @lockettesroom @mattyblover07 @marrykisskilled @beautyloves @nicksbestie

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vanteguccir · 6 months ago

Note

hii, i was wondering if you could write something about doctor gf! reader x bf! matt/chris where she comes home super down after she looses a patient and had to break the news to their loved ones and when matt/chris ask her what happens she breaks into tears telling him and it ends like super fluffy

── ୨୧ !　BLURB

matt sturniolo x reader

where you are a nurse and face the death of a patient, and only Matt can calm you down ;(

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N walked through the door of her house shared with her boyfriend, the weight of the day heavy on her shoulders, more so than usual. The soft click of the door as she closed it behind her echoed through the quiet space, but it did little to calm her racing thoughts. Her heart was still pounding, a hollow ache lodged in her chest, and her hands were trembling slightly, memories of the day flashing like lightning behind her eyes.

She slipped off her shoes mechanically, her body moving on autopilot as she hung her coat by the door. The house was bathed in a warm, golden light, the sun setting just beyond the city skyline, casting long shadows across the floor.

Normally, this sight brought her some semblance of peace; a small reminder that the world continued to turn, even after the hardest days. But today, nothing could soothe the turmoil inside her.

Matt was in the living room, sprawled out on the couch with a game controller in hand, playing after a day of filming with his brothers.

He glanced up when he heard the door close, a smile tugging at his lips as he saw her. But his smile faltered the moment he noticed the look on her face. She didn’t have to say a word; he could tell something was wrong.

"Hey, babe." He called out softly, putting the controller aside and sitting up. "You okay?"

Y/N tried to muster a smile, but it was shaky at best, and her eyes were already welling up with tears. She hadn’t cried all day; not at the hospital, not when she delivered the news, and not even when she stepped outside into the fresh air, hoping it would cleanse the darkness inside her. But now, here, in the safety of her home, the dam she had so carefully constructed was starting to break.

Matt stood up abruptly, his concern deepening as he crossed the room to her. He gently took her hand, pulling her into his arms without hesitation. The moment she felt his familiar warmth, the tears she had been holding back all day spilled over, and a broken sob escaped her lips.

"Hey, hey." Matt murmured, his voice laced with worry as he held her tighter. "What happened, Y/N?"

She couldn’t speak for a moment, the sobs wracking her body as she clung to him. He rubbed soothing circles on her back, whispering reassurances that only made her cry harder. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she found her voice, though it was shaky and raw.

"I-I lost a patient today." She choked out, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. "And I had to tell their family… I had to look into their eyes and tell them they were gone. It was so sudden, Matt… I did everything I could, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough."

Her words came out in a rush, each one more painful than the last, and with them came a fresh wave of guilt that she couldn’t suppress. The image of the grieving family flashed in her mind, their tears, their pleas for some miracle she couldn’t give. She had been trained to handle these situations, to remain composed and professional, but no amount of training could prepare her for the reality of it.

Matt listened, his heart aching for her as she poured out her grief. He knew how seriously she took her job and how much she cared for her patients. It was one of the things he admired most about her; her unwavering compassion and dedication. But he also knew how much of a toll it took on her, especially on days like this.

"It’s not your fault, Y/N." He whispered, cupping her face in his hands and tilting her head up to meet his gaze. "You did everything you could. You gave them the best care possible. It’s not your fault."

"But it feels like it is." She whispered back, her voice breaking. "I should have done more… I should have been able to save them."

"No." Matt said firmly, shaking his head. "You did everything you could. Sometimes… sometimes, things are out of our control, no matter how much we want to change them. You did your best, and that’s all anyone can ask for."

Y/N closed her eyes, letting his words sink in, though the guilt still gnawed at her insides. She knew he was right, logically, but it didn’t make the pain any less real. She had faced death before, but it never got easier. Every loss felt like a personal failure, a reminder that she couldn’t save everyone, no matter how hard she tried.

Matt wiped away her tears with his thumbs, his touch gentle and full of love. He kissed her forehead softly, his lips lingering there as if he could somehow kiss away her pain.

"I’m so sorry you had to go through that." He whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "But you don’t have to carry this alone, okay? I’m here for you. Always."

His words broke through the fog of her despair, and she finally allowed herself to lean into his comfort fully. She buried her face in his chest, her sobs quieting as she felt the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. The warmth of his embrace, the sound of his heartbeat; it was all so familiar, so safe. It was the only thing that made her feel like she wasn’t drowning in her own sorrow.

For a long while, they stood there in the middle of their living room, wrapped in each other’s arms as the sun continued its descent. The room grew dimmer as the golden light faded, but neither of them moved. Matt held her as if he were afraid she might shatter if he let go, and Y/N clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

Eventually, her sobs subsided, and she was left with a hollow exhaustion that seeped into her bones. But there was also a sense of relief; a small, fragile peace that came from sharing her burden with the person she loved most.

"Thank you." She whispered into his chest, her voice hoarse from crying.

"You don’t have to thank me." Matt replied, his voice soft as he pressed another kiss to her hair. "I’m just glad I can be here for you. Now, why don't you sit down while I make you a tea?"

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

#⋆౨ৎ˚ 𝒍𝒆𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒔 #chris sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #x reader #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader angst #matt sturniolo x reader fluff #nurse!reader #doctor!reader #angst #sad #fluff #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo fanfic

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souliebird · 1 year ago

Text

[[and then I met you || ch. 15]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Words: 8.1k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

The first thing you process as you begin to come to is a slow, rhythmic beeping. It is dull and low and it almost carries you right back into the nothingness. You slip in and out of the fog a few times before your mind is able to catch a hold of conciseness. Even then, it feels like everything crawls by until your thoughts go from incoherent images to actual awareness.

You feel awful - like you've been hit by a massive truck, who then backed up over you only to run you over again. Everything aches, but the worst of it is centered on the left side of your head, going down to your neck. It throbs and feels so stiff. You don't think you could move your head if you tried.

The second worst thing is how dry your mouth feels. It is as if someone stuffed you full of cotton to remove all the moisture from your body, then to make sure you were drained, dried you out under a heat lamp. It hurts to even try to swallow the little saliva your mouth is producing.

You need something to drink.

Like some sort of miracle, something cold and wet is pressed to your lips. It startles you, but you react quickly. You force your lips to part and an ice chip is slipped between them. You suck on it desperately and it only takes a second for it to melt away, but almost instantly you are given another one. This happens two more times before your mouth finally doesn't feel like a desert.

Your eyes are hard to open. They feel crusted shut and you don't know if you have the energy to try and pull them apart, but you try. It takes multiple attempts, but finally they open. Everything is far too bright and blurry.

Matt comes into focus above you, face wracked with concern. His hair is a mess and it looks like he hasn't slept in ages. His eyes, while sightless, are puffy and bloodshot and you wonder if he has been crying. Your brow knits in confusion and you try to reach for his cheeks to offer some sort of comfort. Your hand doesn't make it far off whatever you are laying on, but it doesn't matter because as soon as it is in the air, he's clasping his around yours.

He breathes out your name just as you croak out his.

Above you, he lets out the smallest breath of a laugh, like he is relieved, before moving even closer to you. He presses his forehead to yours and you let your eyes fall shut again - you're too tired to keep them open and you don't think he will mind the lack of eye contact.

“You scared me,” he whispers against you, before you feel his lips brush your cheek.

You manage a confused noise, not understanding what is going on. Your throat burns as you attempt to talk, “what happened…?”

“You've got a pretty bad ear infection,” he tells you and you think that sounds about right. Everything hurts so much and you are far too warm. The cotton feeling in your mouth is also in your left ear, making it feel like half your head is dunked under water.

He is so close, his breath warms your still cool lips as he talks, “It hit you hard and fast - your fever got up to 104 and you wouldn't wake up. We had to bring you to the hospital, but you'll be okay now. Your fever has gone down a lot.”

The words float through you and it takes you a few seconds to grasp onto them and make them make sense. “We…?” You question because you don't know who ‘we’ could be.

“Foggy and I,” he confirms. The hand not clutching your own cups your jaw and feels so cool and nice that you can't help but lean into it. He gives you another kiss, this time to the forehead, with his scruff lightly scratching against you. It tickles.

You realize a name is missing and your heart starts to race. Matt hasn't mentioned your daughter and you start to panic.

Where is she? Where's your baby?

“Minnie?” You ask, but to your non-stuffy ear, it sounds more like a whine.

He quickly starts to shush you, his thumb gently rubbing over your cheek, “it's okay, she's okay. She's safe. Foggy took her to go get some breakfast. She's okay. She's okay.”

His words do calm you, but your heart still pounds in your chest. You know Matt trusts Foggy, so to an extent, you do as well, but you want your daughter. You want to hold her and make sure she is truly alright. She must be so scared.

You get another kiss to the forehead and it pulls you from your worried yet sluggish thoughts. You decide you like the feeling of Matt's beard against your skin. It's not something you're used to, and even if it is a little scratchy, it feels nice. It makes you feel warm but not like your supposed fever is making you feel warm. It's a good warm that wraps around your heart. It helps to soothe you - Matt would never allow your little one to be in any danger.

“Try to get some rest, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere - I'll be right here when you wake up, again. I swear,” he whispers into your hairline and you find yourself nodding into his palm.

Sleep sounds good - you're tired and achy. Your eyes are so heavy you couldn't possibly open them again. You are slumping back down into your pillow before you know it, thoughts slowly buzzing back into nothing.

The darkness takes you easily and you drift off without realizing Matt is practically clinging to you.

----

When you wake again, things make a little more sense. The hazy heavy fog is no longer covering your brain and you are more aware of what is happening around you before you open your eyes.

You can hear people walking around and talking outside your little room and everything smells disgustingly sterile. You can feel where IVs have been placed into your arm and the different monitors attached to your chest. You also know Matt is still clutching your hand and that motivates you to actually look around.

Your head is tilted to the right, stretching out the stiffness on the other side, and centered in your view is Matt. He's asleep, head tilted down with his chin nearly to his collarbone. He looks so peaceful with his chest slowly rising and falling and someone has draped a thin blanket around his shoulders, only adding to his gentleness. You can't see it, but you're sure his knees must be bumping against the bed with how close he is to you.

Your heart flutters in your chest. Had he stayed there this entire time? Has he let go of your hand at all?

You remember when you were in the hospital to give birth. You had been so lonely - no one had been there to hold your hand or keep watch over you. No one had visited you - though you had received flowers from your work friends.

Is this what it will be like now?

You want that desperately - to feel like you matter to someone, for someone to care about you and your well-being, to feel like you aren't always alone.

You squeeze his hand, and even though you feel absolutely horrible - hot and sweaty and like your head wants to fall off - you find yourself smiling at the sweet, handsome, lawyer who fathered your child.

You are so happy you forced yourself to tell him the truth.

You don't hear anything to your left but your heart rate monitor beeping, but your ear is also so clogged up not a lot of noise is getting through and you know it's throwing off your spatial awareness. It hurts to roll your head, but it eases your nerves to find you are alone with Matt in the exam room. However, you can't help the worry that bubbles in your stomach over the lack of your daughter.

You know she must be with Foggy. The hospital is probably an incredibly unpleasant place for her - you hate being here because of the smells and atmosphere and that must be amplified for her. You can't imagine all the awful things she might hear here - the sick and dying and the surgeries. You are grateful for Matt's best friend. You will have to find a way to thank him properly.

You force your gaze back to Matt and begin to slowly rub your thumb over his knuckles. He has so many scars there and you don't possibly know how he could have collected them all. He's told you before he practices boxing, but you don't think it is the bare knuckle kind. Maybe the punching bag can split skin - you have no idea about any of it beyond what you've seen in short viral videos.

You have toyed with the idea of asking about going to the gym with him. You think it would be a fun experience for Minnie and you're curious how fit you actually are. Your workouts consist of chasing a toddler around - star jumps, push ups, and weights are no longer in your repertoire and you haven't properly gone on a run since high school. Plus, Minnie has recently learned what a cartwheel is and you are sure she will want to learn to do one and a gym is a safe place for that.

You fall into a daydream about Matt teaching you and Mouse how to tumble, closing your eyes again as you do. You picture buying cute little leotards and watching your daughter perform a routine until there's movement under your hand.

Matt squeezes your fingers, and you open your eyes just in time to see him blink awake.

He gives you a sleepy smile, then with his free hand pulls his glasses out from somewhere under his blanket and puts them on. You watch him, taking in his crows feet before they disappear.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he shrugs the blanket off his shoulders.

You take a moment to consider the answer. You honestly feel horrible, but you don't feel as horrible as you previously did. There are aches and pains but you feel human again, as opposed to the concept of one. So you squeeze his hand and respond, “Better. I didn't…I didn't think I was that sick.”

Matt hums and somehow scoots closer to the bed, then lifts your hand up to kiss the back of your hand. You feel your face heat up and your heart rate monitor beeps a little faster. “I'm glad, you gave us a good scare,” he says, keeping your hand against his lips.

You have to remind yourself he's a very touchy person to keep your heart rate from increasing even more. To help with that, you drop your gaze to his chest - he's wearing a Columbia sweatshirt that is far too big on him and hides his lean frame.

“What time is it?” His question throws you off at first, but then you realize there is a clock above the curtain entrance to the room.

It takes you a second to process, which you blame on the illness and not the fact you haven't used an analog clock in ages, “Almost 1:30. I'm…guessing that it is PM. I can't really tell.”

Matt nods and you guess he can tell whether it is day or night. You hope it is day - you'd feel so guilty if you'd been in the hospital longer than a few hours.

Behind your hand, a small smile appears on his face, “Minnie and Foggy are on their way back up. I think she heard - oh. Okay, yes, she heard you talking. She says she has a present for you.”

Your heart pangs for your daughter. You don't want her to see you like this, but you desperately need her in your arms. You try to push yourself up, but you don't know if you have the energy to keep yourself sitting.

“Do you know how the bed works?” You ask and Matt shakes his head. He reaches out and feels along the railings, but by his frown, you guess he can't figure it out. You doubt any of the button labels are in Braille.

“Let me get the nurse.”

He squeezes your hand once more before letting go. You tell yourself to ignore the strange feeling that envelopes you as he disappears behind the curtain separating you from everyone else.

You don't want to be alone again.

But you aren't - Matt is gone for barely thirty seconds before he's slipping back into the room, followed by a tired looking nurse. The woman comes up to your right side and you finally notice a little stand computer tucked by the bed. As she swipes her card key to unlock it, she looks at you, “How are you feeling?”

You decide to go with the same answer you gave Matt, “Better, ma’am.”

“Good, good,” she says as she types something. You go through the quick song and dance of confirming your name and birthdate, before she starts her questions, “Your pain on a scale of one to ten?”

You have to think about that - your head hurts but not nearly as much as it did last night and your body feels sore and groggy. You bite your lip before estimating, “About a four..?”

She adds that to your chart, “how about your ear? It should feel a bit clearer, you had a lot of fluid that drained out.”

That surprises you because you definitely do not remember that. You touch your ear and it feels far too warm and sensitive. You had no idea it was the problem, so you feel like you can't compare.

“I don't know. Full? It…hurts. Like it's…sore on the inside?” you feel like an idiot trying to explain, but you have no idea about ear anatomy.

The nurse hums, then turns to you, pulling a stethoscope out of her pocket, “I'm going to listen to your lungs. Take a deep breath.”

You do as you are told as she places the device on your back to listen. You repeat this a few times with her until she's satisfied and she goes to enter her findings in the computer.

“The doctor will be in shortly,” she tells you before leaning down to adjust your bed, so it can help you sit. You go from laying down to being propped up, “He will go over your discharge instructions.”

You're being discharged? You just woke up and haven't talked to anyone at all. The fact they are sending you away confuses you, “I'm being discharged?”

The nurse nods, not even looking at you as she locks the computer, “Yes. Do you feel you shouldn't be?”

You flush at the question and duck your head in shame. You know better than to question a doctor - if they think you should be discharged, you are fine. You force yourself to shrug and apologize, “No, I'm sorry, I just didn't expect it.”

The nurse simply gives you another hum before leaving to probably go tend to a patient that actually needs her. Almost instantly, Matt is back by your side, taking your hand. He kisses the meat of your thumb as he sits back in his chair.

“If you need to stay, you can stay,” he quietly advises.

You quickly shake your head, “No, it will be fine.” You huff a sad laugh, “It's not like I can afford this anyways.” You don't want to imagine the bill you are going to receive - being brought into the emergency room and given all kinds of medicine. You’ll have no more savings.

“Don't worry about it,” he quickly tells you, a frown clear on his face. “Focus on getting better. Taking care of yourself. We can tackle the bill later - there's plenty of work arounds.”

Guilt pools in your belly - you don't need Matt worrying about your money problems. You force yourself to nod at his words, simply so he'll not try to comfort you over this issue. You think he must be on to what you are doing because he squeezes your hand and starts to say something, but quickly cuts himself off. You don't understand why until a few moments later - the curtain closing off your room is pushed aside and Minnie barrels in, closely followed by Foggy.

You barely look at the blonde, instead pulling away from Matt to throw open your arms for your baby. The speed in which she manages to scale Matt and jump to you is impressive and you hug her to you like you're trying to absorb her. Your arm screams at you due to the fact you're trying to bend where your IVs are, but you don't care - and you don't care if your little angel is nearly strangling you with how tight she's hugging you.

“Don't ever get sick again!” She whines into your neck and you nod against her. You'll never get sick again - what you put her through for being sick will forever live in your mind.

“I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry, I didn't know I was sick.”

“It was scary!”

That absolutely breaks your heart and tears start to fall.

“I'm so sorry, Minnie,” you choke out as you try to hold her impossibly closer. The guilt you had regarding money transforms into guilt over being sick at all. How dare you put Minnie through this? You should have realized something was wrong. You repeatedly apologize into her hair, trying to keep yourself from sobbing while she clings to you.

You feel the bed dip and then Matt is pulling you both against his chest and pressing his lips to your crown, “Shhh, it's okay. It's okay.”

You try to shake your head because none of this is okay. You scared and upset your daughter and you've got a stupid ear infection that is going to bankrupt you. Nothing is okay.

“Do you want to show your Mommy what you got her to make her feel better?” Foggy asks Minnie after a minute of you being hysterical and shame courses through you as you are reminded someone else is there, watching you breakdown.

You are such a fucking mess.

However, Minnie pulls away from being squashed between you and Matt and jumps off the bed to go to the blonde. You finally notice, through teary tired eyes, that he has a decently sized gift bag. He sets it down on the ground and Mouse has to pick it up by its sides because it's too tall for her to hold by the handles.

As she tries to figure out how to get back on the bed, you realize Matt is still wrapped around you and you decide you are too tired to fight with your anxiety and guilt any longer. You want his comfort - so you lean more into his arms and he responds by nuzzling you. He begins running his hands over your arms and somehow, it begins to soothe away your upset.

You miss whatever exchange your daughter and Foggy have, but he lifts her up and places her and the gift bag on the bed and she hauls it over to you.

“We got you a present to get better,” she tells you and you know whatever it is, you'll cherish it.

There's no tissue blocking your view and you see something pink and white checkered that looks very soft. Before you can move to pull it out, Matt intervenes. He takes your wrist and gently stretches out your arm that has the IV in it, humming against you, “You have to keep your arm straight.”

You flush at the reminder, feeling like a complete idiot, and use only one hand to pull out the gift.

It is a massive blanket and it is so so soft. You want to bury yourself in it.

“Oh, Mouse, this will make me feel better. Thank you so so much,” you say as you reach out with your good arm to hug her again. She wastes no time tucking herself back between you and Matt.

“Blankies make everything better,” she advises wisely, “Froggy said so.”

You can't help but smile at that and hold your daughter even closer. You turn your attention to Foggy, who has just been an absolute saint for watching over your daughter, “Thank you so much, Foggy. For everything. I can't thank you enough.”

He scoffs and waves his hand, “it is my pleasure. This wasn't my first late night Murdock call, it won't be my last, and she is at least a pleasure to be around at three in the morning.”

You want to ask how they even knew you were sick, but you also don't want to know the details. You can only guess Minnie somehow called Matt and you aren't in a place to hear that conversation. The guilt and emotions would overwhelm you even more than you already are and you are so so tired of crying. So you hug your daughter even closer, so she's in your lap, and mumble another thank you.

Foggy takes a seat in one of the visitor chairs and asks, “has the doctor come yet to talk to you?” You very much appreciate his concern, but most importantly, his tact. You don't feel like he's judging or lying to you. He seems genuinely concerned.

You try to not shake your head at his question, since Matt is still holding you and it would just hurt your head more, and reply “Just the nurse. She said I'm getting discharged.”

The blonde huffs, leaning back in his seat to cross his arms, “Wow, they really do just turn and burn. Last time I was here, they pushed me through, too. American health care, right?” You hum in agreement - the health care system in America is very bad.

Foggy dives into a story about being in the hospital when he was a kid. It quickly catches Minnie’s attention and you realize this may be more for her benefit than anyone else's. You try to listen, but instead find yourself resting your head on Matt's shoulder and closing your eyes again.

You’ll just stay like this, your daughter in your lap and her father holding you against him, until the doctor comes.

If he takes his time getting to you, you don't think anyone is going to complain.

---

It takes another three hours for you to be fully discharged. You have to fill out a mass of paperwork before the doctor even speaks to you, but after he does, no time is wasted to clear you out of the needed exam room.

Any concerns you have about getting home are moot, as Foggy has everything covered. He has borrowed his girlfriend's car and procured a child's seat from his parents - who apparently have multiple due to their ‘hoard of grandchildren’. Minnie doesn't fuss at all, focused on being the best helper she can be by carrying your purse, which had apparently been brought in with you. Matt is insistent on helping you walk, which you are grateful for - standing makes you very dizzy and you have to focus to not stumble.

To your great surprise, Karen is waiting outside your building as Foggy pulls the car up. She's carrying a few shopping bags, and beside her is a grumpy looking man you vaguely recognize holding a very old fashion looking crockpot. It has an orange vintage flower pattern and you kind of want it.

No one says anything as you all climb out of the vehicle. Matt quickly gets himself under your shoulder and his arm around your waist while Minnie latches herself to your hand. You don't know if she thinks she's helping or if she's obeying your rule of hand-holding when outside.

You all awkwardly stand on the sidewalk and you watch as Foggy and the new man have a staring contest. You have no idea what is going on and kind of don't care, as you want to get up to your apartment. After a full minute, Foggy points to the man and declares, “you aren't coming to Thanksgiving,” before marching towards the door to the building. Matt, and thus you, follows after him and as you pass Karen, she snorts with laughter. She and the man fall in line behind you as you make your way to the stairs.

You just know that if you allowed him, Matt would pick you up and carry you up the three flights of stairs, but you refuse to let it happen. You are dizzy and far too warm, but also very stubborn and you determinedly take each step at a time, refusing to stop until you're on your floor. Only then do you resume leaning into his hold.

Foggy unlocks your door then ushers you all inside. Minnie lets go of your hand almost instantly, drops your purse, and runs to the bedroom. You guess she is going to grab Pig and Scooby to update them on everything. You make your way to your couch as Karen sets the groceries on the table and her grumpy friend finds a spot on the counter to plug in the crockpot.

As she unpacks, Karen narrates, “Okay, so I got you all the essentials - Gatorade, tea, saltines, ibuprofen, a compress, and I got you life savers to suck on because that helps when you want something to sweet but don't want to eat anything. I picked up your medicine, it's just ear drops. And of course, the most important thing,” you turn on the couch just in time to see her motion towards your kitchen, “Nelson Family Chicken Soup.”

You stare at the blonde with wide eyes and you feel like you are going to start crying again. No one has ever done this much for you before - not even your ex-boyfriends. Your last one wouldn't even pick up tampons for you, but Karen has clearly gone out of her way and you've only met her a handful of times. You have no idea how to thank her and Foggy for everything they have done for you. You are going to have to bake them a cake or something. As for Matt, you know you are never going to be able to repay him for the comfort and care he has given you in the last few hours.

You are so overwhelmed with love for this little group of friends who are letting you into their life.

“Thank you so much,” you say, meaning it with all of your heart, “you didn't have to do all of that. Thank you.”

Karen gives you a warm smile before waving you off, “Don't mention it. You'd do the same for any of us.”

You happily would and plan to take notes of what Karen bought, just in case. However, the soup is something that confuses you. Did Matt's best friend bring Minnie to his house to cook? You turn to Foggy, who is examining Minnie’s toy chest, and ask, “You made soup?”

The blonde man looks up with a laugh, “God, no, you don't want me cooking. That was all my mom. Her soup is a cure all.”

“It is,” Matt vouches from beside you. “It can cure almost anything. It got rid of my flu last year.”

“It saved countless Christmases,” Foggy adds.

“It also stops cramps,” Karen confirms.

You look to the man in the kitchen for his approval and he just shrugs, “Haven't had it, but it smells good.”

You have to cover your face at that point because it is all too much. Foggy's mother made you soup? How did she even know you were sick? Why did she do this for you - someone she's never met? Someone she has no connection to at all?

An arm wraps around your shoulder and you are pulled to lean against Matt. He nuzzles against you and whispers, “you aren't alone anymore. We're all here for you.”

You hide yourself against him and he starts to rub your back in a comforting manner. This is far too much for you. You don't know how to process all of it.

Luckily, a distraction from your patheticness comes in the form of your daughter.

You hear her come back into the living room and boldly ask the strange man in your kitchen, “Who are you?”

You try to listen since you are curious and you can feel that Matt has turned his head to pay attention to his daughter. You stay tucked against his shoulder, wishing you had your new big blanket to wrap yourself in.

“My name's Frank, what's yours, little lady?” The man says and you try to commit the name to memory. You wonder if he is Karen's boyfriend or something - you don't think he's been mentioned before.

“Minnie!” She declares, then, “This is Pig and Scooby. They like soup, too!” You guess she's held up her toys for him to see. She must be less nervous of the man since he is in your home.

There's a round of chuckles before Frank speaks again, “That right? How about we leave it to your Daddy to get you and your friends some soup and we let your Mommy get some rest?”

There's a few beats of silence before you hear Minnie again, “Okay. Bye-bye, Mister Frank.”

The man barks with laughter, which barely covers the pitter-patter of feet coming towards you, “Daddy, can we have soup for dinner, I'm hungry.”

“Of course, princess, I'll make you a bowl.”

The others must take that as a cue, because when you lift your head up, the three other adults are making their way back to your front door.

Karen lightly calls out your name to get your attention, and when she sees you looking at her, offers a soft smile, “Feel better soon, and let us know if you need anything.”

“Anything at all,” Foggy adds, “I'm more than happy to play babysitter. Parks are my specialty if the squirt needs to get out all that Murdock energy.”

“I'm not a squirt!” Mouse huffs and you can picture her puffing up her cheeks.

“I don't know, kid, you look like a squirt to me,” Frank tells her and she lets out a long ‘nooooo’ in response.

You smile against Matt at the little exchange - you can tell your daughter is extremely fond of Foggy and that makes your heart rest easy. She's never been so vocal around other adults before.

“Thank you, so much. I really, really mean it,” you tell the people who have come to your rescue.

“It is really not a problem, you're family, now,” Foggy tells you before directing himself towards Minnie, “Okay, squirt, can I get a high five?” The sound of a toddler running followed by a slap tells you she just did that. “Good girl! Now, help your Dad take care of your Mom and call me if he gives you any trouble, got it?”

“Got it, Froggy!”

Goodbyes are exchanged then it is just your little family left in your apartment. You finally allow yourself to pull away from Matt.

“You don't need to stay.”

His response is to raise his eyebrows at you, “You think I'm going to leave you alone while you're sick? You need to rest. I’ll take care of everything else. Minnie can finally show me her Scooby movie.”

You want to tell him ‘no’, that you have it handled and he should go get his own rest, but you know it's fruitless. You're learning Matt is committed to his role of being a father and there will be no way to convince him to go. He's a lawyer - he probably already has fifteen arguments ready for why he should stay.

So you give in and give a small nod, “Okay…”

He breaks into a big grin, like he expected you to push back and is happy you didn't, “Good. Are you feeling up to some soup?”

Your stomach turns at the idea of eating anything. You’d been given IV fluids at the hospital and managed a cup of water, but you do not want to eat. There is nothing actually wrong with your stomach - everything is centered on your ear - but that doesn't change the fact you'll probably not be able to keep anything down.

“No,” you tell him after a moment, then add, “I think I'm going to shower and go to bed.”

“Okay,” he hums, reaching up and oh so gently petting your cheek with the back of his fingers and making a shiver run up your spine, “Let me know if you need anything. You don't need to get up, if you just say anything, I'll hear it, okay?”

You don't like the idea of him being able to hear your sick gross body, but there is nothing you can do about it. You slowly push yourself up, careful to not get too dizzy, then start towards your bedroom. Behind you, Matt starts talking about soup and Scooby with Minnie.

Once you are alone in your room with the door closed, you break down. You sit on your bed, hide your face in a pillow, and just let out all of your tears. All your frustration, your shame, your guilt, your confusion, your tiredness, and your pain pours out of you. Your shoulders shake as you bite into the pillow to try and hide your sobs and you pray Matt realizes you need to be alone right now and distracts Minnie. You just need to get all of this out of you.

Your body is so exhausted you can only cry for a few minutes before you are completely drained. You feel slightly better emotionally, but your head is throbbing even more.

You desperately want to get clean and curl up now. You weakly toss your pillow back on the bed and force yourself up to gather something clean to change into. You place the new garments of the dresser, before going to the closet and pulling out a new sheet for your bed. You know you don't have the energy to strip it, but you don't want to sleep on your own filth. So, you push your blanket off, then lay the clean sheet over the dirty one.

Satisfied with your meager attempt, you grab your clothes, open the bedroom door, and shuffle to the bathroom.

You look like absolute shit and don't need your mirror to tell you that, so you try to not look at it. To help, you grab a towel and maneuver it to hang over your medicine box, then strip out of your soiled clothing.

You let your body go on autopilot to start the shower and as you wait for it to heat up, you wash your face and brush your teeth. That alone makes you feel cleaner. You take your hair out of its ponytail - you washed it on Saturday, so you aren't going to rewash it, but you'd like to wet your skull to remove some sweat.

You kick your dirty clothes into a corner, then check the spray. It feels nice and hot, but not scalding, and you step in.

Almost immediately, your vision goes spotty and it feels like your brain is floating in ice water. You have to reach out with both hands and lean on the wall so you don't tumble over and you shuffle to it to press your forehead to the cool tile.

Maybe a shower wasn't such a good idea after all, but you feel so sweaty and sticky and gross. If you just stand and let the water wash over you, maybe it will help and you won't have to let go of the wall. Or you can just sit on the floor, but with how you are feeling that runs the risk of you not being able to get back up.

A knock on the door startles you and you have to push more against the tile to keep yourself upright.

You close your eyes tightly.

You think it must be Minnie. She's come to go potty when you've been in the shower before and you don't think she went before you left the hospital. You take a deep breath and center yourself before calling out, “Come in.”

The door opens and closes and the voice that speaks isn't Minnie.

“Are you okay?”

You shake your head because you are very much not okay in any sense of the word. You don't know how to put that into words or even if you want to. You don't want to go on the emotional rollercoaster again - you're so tired. You just want to get clean and go back to sleep.

You don't mean to space out, but you do. There's just so much going on and your body decides to only focus on remaining upright. So when hands smooth over your waist, you nearly scream. You know it's Matt, but it still scares you.

Why is he in the shower with you?

You try to turn around to question him, but his hands tighten around you, keeping you in place.

“Let me help you.”

The words shake your core. Your heart begins to pound in your chest and you know, if you had any tears left in you, they would be falling. Why is he doing this? Why is he here, asking to help you? Why is he pushing for it?

You feel him step even closer to you and his chest brushes against your back. He breathes your name into your ear, then repeats, “Let me help you, please.”

You try to shake your head and choke out, “You should be with Minnie.” Minnie needs him, she needs his help, not you. He is here to help watch over her, he even said so himself.

His nose bumps against your ear and you feel like your knees are going to give out. Why is he doing this?

“She's trying to give soup to her toys and watching her shows. She doesn't need me right now. You do. Let me help you.”

You push your hands firmer against the tile to keep your balance.

Matt has been with you all day, holding your hand and keeping you upright until you left his arms to go take a shower. You haven't asked this of him - he's been with you of his own free will. He's been so gentle with you, so caring, so comforting.

His hands move from your waist around to your stomach and slowly up to your sternum and very gently pulls you flush against his chest. He feels so firm, so steady, holding you up.

Do you really want to push him away? Do you really want to send him back to watch Minnie?

You can barely keep yourself standing. You're so dizzy. It feels like at any moment your body is going to give out and you'll collapse.

It feels nice to be held.

It feels nice that he is here for you, for whatever motivation he has.

You think of your daughter. How scary this must be for her and how terrifying it would be for her if you fainted in the shower after everything that has happened.

That must be why Matt is here with you. He's far more in tune with your body and you know that means Minnie is too.

He's trying to keep her safe by keeping you safe.

You need to think of Minnie, not yourself.

Matt whispers your name again and you drop your hand from the tile and place it over Matt's.

“Okay…” you whisper. “Okay.”

Lips brush your shoulder and his hands move to be at your ribs and there's a gentle pressure, silently asking you to turn. You take a steadying breath and start to rotate, slow as can be.

You can't look at him in the face. Despite everything, shame burns deep inside of you. You've always been able to do things yourself - you've always had to. Even if it feels good to have the help, to know Matt is going to catch you if you fall, the voice that lives inside you hisses that you're being weak. Pathetic.

You force your eyes open and the first thing you see are the scars going across his chest.

He has been through so much you don't even know about, just like you have been through things you haven't told him about, and to make this work, to make raising your daughter work, you have to trust each other. You have to trust Matt and he needs to trust you.

You slowly reach up and place your hand half over the scar on his right pec, then, to prove to yourself that you mean the beliefs in your head, you lean in and press your lips to the other side of the scar.

He inhales sharply and you feel like, for some reason, you made the right move.

Neither of you move for a minute, then Matt gently presses against you and guides you back into the spray of the shower.

It feels so good against your hot sticky skin and you find yourself letting yourself lean more into Matt and you give in to your desires and let your head fall against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you do.

You feel him reach behind you to the shower caddy and you are happy you have been using bar soap, so you don't have to explain what is what to Matt. He lathers up his hands, then begins to wash you. He starts with your back and you decide to just zone out. You can't debate anymore, you can't let your mind go crazy - you're too tired, too sick to deal with much more.

Matt's hands slowly work over your back and sides. They dip down to your bottom and even though he's touching somewhere intimate, it doesn't feel lewd.

After your back has been washed, he tilts his head just slightly and his nose brushes the shell of your ear and he breathes into it, “turn around so I can get your front.”

It takes a few moments, but you do as you are told, and then you are leaning back against Matt's chest, head once again resting on his shoulder, just the opposite one this time. Your nose is a hair's breadth away from his jaw.

He relathers his hands, then starts on your stomach. He's so methodical about it and it feels almost hedonistic. You're not going to deny it feels good, but you know it's not in any way sexual or wanting. You just haven't been touched in so long, so anything will feel good.

He avoids your nipples when he runs his hands over and under your breasts and he doesn't linger, moving up to your shoulders, then down your arms. When he gets to your hands, he laces your fingers together.

“Do you want your hair done?” He quietly asks and you just barely shake your head.

“Just want to get it wet,” you mumble into his throat.

He hums in response and squeezes your hands, “‘m gonna need to turn you around again to do that and to get your legs.”

He keeps your hands in his and, to your great surprise, turns you slowly around like you are dancing, one arm over your head and another around your back. When you're facing the right way again, you open your eyes to see Matt smiling at you with the softest look.

In your chest, your heart clenches.

No one has ever looked at you like that before. No one. No one has ever treated you the way he has.

You don't think you care if it is because you are the mother of his child. Matt is a truly good and loving person and you want to bask in it, at least for now.

You let go of one of his hands and cup his jaw. He presses into it, closing his eyes and it's like you can feel any tension he might have in him melt away. You stay like that for a few seconds before he turns his head just slightly to nuzzle into your palm, then he lets go of you to drag his fingers through your hair. He makes sure to get your roots wet, but doesn't soak your hair. His nails dig slightly into your scalp and you try to not moan at how nice it feels.

“Hold onto my shoulders,” he directs you and you do as you are told. Only when you have a secure hold on him does he kneel down and begin to run his hands over your legs. He starts high on one thigh and works his way down to your foot, then repeats the process on the opposite leg.

You can't help but look down at him, watching as he delicately washes you. There's this deep urge in your belly, right above your core, to tangle your hands into his hair. A memory from your night together, all those years ago, flashes through your mind.

He had backed you against a wall and gotten on his knees to push your dress up and your panties down. Your thigh had been draped over his shoulder and he had eaten you out like a starving man before taking you to bed and making you cum two more times on his tongue.

You quickly banish the thoughts because not only do you know it's not the time for that, but that it was a one night stand between strangers. You don't want to make things any more awkward by Matt realizing he's having such an effect on your body, even if you don't intend for it.

You tell yourself to think of the pajamas you've picked out to wear instead - a nice, soft, baggy shirt and your favorite biker shorts. You picture the amazing blanket your daughter got you and how nice it will be to curl up in it and sleep.

You want that more than anything right now. You want to just sleep.

You focus on that until Matt is back in front of you and turning off the water.

“All done,” he whispers and you repeat the words back to him.

He helps you out of the shower and gets you wrapped in a towel before starting to dry himself off. You don't allow yourself to admire his body and focus on getting the water droplets off of your body and out of your hair.

Once you are no longer dripping, you bundle your hair back into a ponytail and pull on your clean clothes.

The little change makes you feel so much better. You always forget how just being clean can change your mood so drastically.

“Thank you,” you whisper once you are dressed. “Thank you so much, Matt.”

You turn to finally look at him, and he has redressed in just his boxers and oversized sweater. He steps towards you and cups your jaw, smoothing his thumb over your cheeks, “You don't have to thank me. I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you. You just have to let me in, okay? Please let me in.”

You close your eyes at his words and nod.

You can't promise you will let him in fully, but after everything he's shown you in such a short time, you think you can try. You can try to let Matt in.

“Okay.”

He lets you go with a small, sweet, and soft smile then cocks his head slightly to the right, “Let's get you to bed, I think someone has decided they want to join you for a nap.”

Joy swells in your heart and belly at the idea of cuddling with your daughter. You want to wrap her up and hold her and let her feel loved and protected. You know now how nice it is and words tumble from your lips without you meaning them to, “you should come too.”

His eyes go wide at the offer before that small sweet smile morphs into a boyish grin, “I would like that. I would like that a lot.”

a/n: Matt would not stop smooching. I could not hold him back from smooching.

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then i met you

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